THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


POEMS 


BY 


SUSAN     S.     BUTTON 


'JlHOViH-JIRIH"— "JEHOVAH-KISSI." 


PUBLISHED    FOR    THE    AUTHORESS, 

LITCHPIELD,    OHIO. 

1858. 


•  *  « 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1853, 
BY     STTSAN     S.     BUTTON, 

to  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States  for  the  Southern 
District  of  New- York. 


JOHN  A.  OKAY'S 

IRE-PBOOF  pBnrnxo  oFncK, 
16  and  18  Jacob  St.,  N.  T. 


PS 


TO 

MY    FRIEND 
R  I  O  H  A.  IR  ID 


TO  MY   NUMEROUS  FRIENDS, 

Who,  by  their  kind  sympathy,  have  alleviated  my  sufferings,  and  by  their 

generous  commendation  have  encouraged  me 

to  improve  the  talent 

WHICH 

MY  HEAVENLY  FATHER  HAS  INTRUSTED  TO  MY  KEEPING, 

THIS     LITTLE     VOLUME     IS     AFFECTIONATELY     DEDICATED 

M 

THE    AUTHORESS. 


759398 


PREFACE. 


IN  presenting  this  little  volume  to  the  public,  it  may  not  be 
deemed  amiss  for  me  to  inform  those  of  my  friends  who  may  feel 
interested  in  knowing  it,  how  it  occurred  that  I  undertook  a  task 
which,  although  performed  in  the  midst  of  pain,  has  been  to  me 
a  pleasant  one. 

All  who  have  long  been  invalids  well  know  that  sickness  has 
its  peculiar  temptations  and  trials ;  one  of  which  is,  a  tendency 
to  think  too  much  of  one's  own  sorrows. 

To  avoid  this,  and  thus  benefit  myself,  and  also  hoping  that 
notwithstanding  I  was  in  a  measure  debarred  from  society,  I 
might,  should  God  add  his  blessing  to  my  humble  efforts,  be  of 
some  use  to  my  fellow-creatures,  I  made  pleasant  thoughts  the 
dear  partners  of  my  hours  of  pain ;  and  in  the  language  of  an 
other,  I  can  truly  say  that  to  me  "poetry  was  its  own  exceeding 
great  reward." 

At  length  the  time  came  when,  with  the  buoyancy  of  spirit 
which  usually  attends  convalescence  after  a  long  illness,  I  went 
forth  and  drank  freely  from  the  nectar-filled  chalice  of  Nature, 
and  amid  her  beauties  I  found  new  themes,  and  for  a  few  months 


Vi  PREFACE. 

wrote  more  poetry  than  I  had  ever  before  written  in  the  same 
length  of  time.  But  as  my  health  continued  to  improve,  other 
thoughts,  and  themes,  and  schemes  of  usefulness  so  engrossed 
my  attention,  that  for  two  or  three  years  I  found  but  little  time 
to  employ  my  pen,  except  in  epistolary  writing,  and  made  but  few 
additions  to  my  manuscript  poems. 

While  on  a  long-anticipated  visit  to  my  native  home  in  a  quiet 
valley  amid  the  Green  Mountains,  in  the  autumn  of  1855,  I  met 
with  an  accident  which  sympathizing  friends  deemed  "very 
unfortunate,"  and  which  has  indeed  cost  me  much  physical 
suffering. 

I  became  so  feeble  that  for  many  weary  weeks  and  months  I 
suffered  so  intensely  that  much  of  the  time  I  could  not  even  fix 
my  thoughts  on  the  glories  of  heaven  and  the  joys  of  the  re 
deemed,  save  for  a  few  moments  at  a  time,  without  greatly  increas 
ing  my  sufferings.  But  a  brighter  morrow  was  to  dawn  on  me. 
I  was  again  so  far  convalescent  that  I  could  employ  my  pencil  in 
writing,  although  I  was  seldom  able  to  sit  long  at  the  table  to 
write. 

Under  these  circumstances  I  have  made  sufficient  additions  to 
what  I  had  already  written,  to  complete  the  little  volume  which, 
on  the  wings  of  Faith  and  Prayer,  I  hope  soon  to  send  forth  to 
the  public. 

Whatever  reception  it  may  now  meet,  if  in  the  day  when  the 
secrets  of  all  hearts  shall  be  revealed,  I  shall  find  that  the 
thoughts  which  to  me  have  been  sweet  solaces  of  a  sick-room, 
and  pleasant  companions  of  brighter  hours,  have  gone  like  white- 
winged  messengers  of  mercy  to  soothe  the  woes  of  the  sorrow- 


PEEFACE.  Vll 

ing,  and  have  led  doubting  souls  to  trust  in  God,  I  shall  then 
rejoice  that  I  sent  it  forth ;  for,  "like  Noah's  dove,"  it  will  come 
again  bearing  the  olive  branch  of  Peace,  far  more  grateful  than  a 
laurel  wreath,  or  costly  pearls,  or  glittering  ore  from  the  richest 

mines  which  earth  ever  yielded. 

S.  S.  B. 


CONTENTS 


PAQB 

Poesie, 13 

Sunlight  on  the  Mountains, 16 

Pencilings  on  the  Shores  of  Lake  Erie, 19 

Lines  addressed  to  the  Patients  of  Dr.  G.  "W.  Strong,  of  Cleve 
land,  24 

Father,  let  thy  Will  be  done, 26 

The  Power  of  Prayer, 30 

A  Sketch 35 

Cleveland  (Ohio)  Cemetery — with  Reflections 38 

Adonis, 48 

Jesus  Preaching  by  the  Sea-side, 51 

Epitaph, 54 

Evening  Thoughts, 55 

To  Mr. ,  on  the  Death  of  his  Wife, 57 

Christ's  Burial  and  Resurrection, 60 

Slander, 64 

Are  the  Sainted  Dead  lost  ? 69 

To  Mrs.  L.  H.  Sigourney, 72 

The  Spirit  Bride, 75 

Lines, 77 


X  CONTENTS. 

MM 

"  Brethren,  pray  for  us," 1 9 

To  Mrs.  P., 81 

Good  Night, 85 

To  Mrs.  M.  A.  S.  B., 88 

Thanksgiving  Day, 89 

Thanksgiving  Hymn, 93 

To  Louisa, 96 

Death  of  M.  E.  Knowlton,  a  Sister's  Babe 95 

Fancy's  Wreath 99 

To  Mrs. ,  on  the  Gift  of  a  Moss  Eose 103 

Secret  Grief, 104 

Epitaph, 1 08 

Lines, 109 

A  Farewell  to  1849,  1850,  and  1851, Ill 

When  I  would  die, 116 

Sickness  and  returning  Health, 118 

Yonder  and  Up  Yonder, 125 

The  Indian's  Recompense, 128 

An  Impromptu, 132 

The  Rainbow — with  Reflections, 136 

On  the  Death  of  an  Acquaintance, 139 

Prayer, 142 

Faith, 146 

Lines  inscribed  to  an  Aunt, 147 

To  Mrs.  K ,  with  a  Christmas  Message,  etc., 150 

The  Childless  Widow, 155 

To  Mary  H.  P., 169 

Forests  and  Forest  Teachings, 160 

Evening  Meditations, 163 


CONTENTS.  Xi 

MM 
Epitaph,  165 

Lines  on  the  breaking  of  my  Harp, 166 

Death  of  Moses, 169 

"Welcome  Home, 174 

To  Messrs.  J.  V.  K.  S.  and  T.  S.  S.,  and  their  Families, 176 

Thoughts  at  a  Sunset  Hour, 178 

Lines  on  a  Tennessee  Rose, 181 

Lines  written  November  25th,  1852, 184 

The  Martyr  Bird, 188 

To  the  Baker  Vocalists, 191 

Sympathy, 192 

To  "William  and  E  , 197 

Farewell  to  the  Blues, 199 

Visionaries, 202 

Be  Kind, 207 

Hope, 209 

The  Sitter  for  a  Miniature, 210 

The  Young  Mother  to  her  Infant, 2 14 

God  is  Love, 216 

The  Dying  Wife, 218 

Let  me  go  Home, 219 

Rest  in  Heaven 224 

To  a  Poet, 226 

Pleasures  of  Poetry, 228 


Xll  CONTEXTS. 


EARLY    PBODUCTIONS. 

PAOB 

A  Dialogue, 235 

What  ia  Man, 236 

To  my  Bible, 238 

The  Christian's  Wants, 238 

On  viewing  a  Fragile  Vine  from  the  Window,  etc., 240 

The  Pilgrim's  Dream, 241 

Elijah  at  the  Cave 243 

lanes, 244 

Musings, 246 

Samson's  Escape  from  Gaza, 247 

Henry  Martyn, 248 

On  the  Death  of  a  Member  of  the  Juvenile  Choir, 250 

Lines, 251 

Fancy's  Dream, 252 

SCENES  IN  THE  LIFE  OP  MOSES, 255 

JOSEPHINE, 279 


SUGGESTED  ON  VIEWING  AN  ENGRAVING  OP 
EETSCH'S  POESIE. 

AH  !  whither  dost  speed,  gentle  spirit  and  fair, 
While  the  breeze  lightly  plays  with  the  curls  of  thy 

hair, 
And  thy  gaze  of  deep  thought  upward  turns  to  the 

sky, 

As  'twould  read  the  sweet  wonders  it  veils  from  the 
eye? 

With  the  snowy- white  wing  of  the  swan  for  thy  sail, 
Sure  thou  needest  no  canvas  to  spread  to  the  gale  I 


14  LINES  SUGGESTED  ON  VIEWING 

With  its  eye  for  thy  guide,  and  its  song  for  thy  cheer, 
With  its  back  for  thy  seat,  and  its  foot  for  thy  oar, 
And  its  lily-white  breast  for  the  prow  of  thy  boat, 
O'er  the  foam  and  the  wave  thou  dost  peacefully  float. 

For  the  bird  of  sweet  song  is  companion  for  thee, 
As  so  gently  she  steers  thy  fair  bark  o'er  the  sea ! 
Ah  !  how  proudly  she  sweeps  o'er  the  ocean's  deep 

caves, 
Nor  will  heed  though  thy  foot  oft  be  plunged  in  the 

waves. 

With  a  pen  in  thy  hand,  and  a  star  on  thy  wing, 
While  thy  harp  o'er  thy  shoulder  is  flung,  sweetly 

sing, 

While  thine  eye,  that  so  steadfastly  gazes  above, 
Doth  reveal  to  the  spirit  its  wealth  of  pure  love. 

Thy  deep  gaze  is  not  fixed  on  the  temple  of  Fame ; 
For  far  higher's  thy  mark,  and  far  nobler  thine  aim ; 
And  the  steep  that  so  rugged  to  others  doth  seem, 
As  so  high  thou  dost  gaze,  ne'er  disturbs  thy  sweet 
dream. 


AN  ENGKAVING  OF  EETSCH'S  POESIE.  15 

While  aloft  thou  dost  soar,  thy  soft  pinion  to  try, 
Unawares  to  her  fane  thou  wilt  peacefully  fly — 
Through  her  halls  thou  wilt  sweetly  though  humbly 

then  sing, 
While  full  high  in  her  dome  thou  wilt  fold  thy 

bright  wing. 

But  not  long  in  the  temple  of  Fame  wilt  thou  stay, 
For  thy  birth-place  is  heaven,  and  thy  home  is  on 

high; 

And  soon  quitting  her  dome,  at  the. close  of  the  day, 
As  a  bird  on  swift  wing,  to  thy  home  thou  wilt  fly. 


16  SUNLIGHT  ON  THE   MOUNTAINS. 


mt  \\t  fountains, 


INSCEIBED    TO    THE    LOVED    ONES    OF    MY    NATIVE 
STATE  —  VERMONT. 

SUNLIGHT'S  on  the  mountains,  shadow  in  the  vale, 
And  the  gushing  fountains  trill  a  joyous  tale  — 
Elvers  onward  rolling,  o'er  a  stony  bed, 
Time's  swift  minutes  tolling,  toll  as  for  the  dead. 

Hark  !  the  birds  are  singing,  "  Farewell  to  the  day  !" 
Sweetest  echoes  ringing,  answer  every  lay  ; 
While  the  streamlets  flowing,  fading  leaves  enfold, 
-Where  the  elms  are  growing,  ivy-twined  and  old. 

O'er  the  rocks  are  hanging  swaying  bush  and  vine  ; 
Mowers'  scythes  are  clanging,  grassy  blades  entwine, 
For  they're  swift  descending  for  a  wintry  store, 
And  the  farmer  tending,  turns  them  o'er  and  o'er. 


SUNLIGHT  ON  THE   MOUNTAINS.  17 

Autumn's  hues  arc  blended  with  the  evergreen, 
Which  the  young  leaves  tended,  in  their  glittering 

sheen, 
While  again  the  mountains,  tinged  with  glorious 

light, 
Echo  forth  the  fountains'  tread  from  every  hight. 

Oh !  my  soul  is  dreaming  of  my  childhood's  days, 
When  the  sunlight  gleaming,  I  its  lingering  rays 
Watched  upon  the  mountain,  gazing  with  delight, 
Listening  to  the  fountain  musical  and  bright. 

The  glorious  mountain  !  how  I  love  it ! 
Ah !  who  Italian  skies  would  covet, 
While  gazing  on  the  sunlit  mountain, 
And  listening  to  the  gushing  fountain, 
And  streams  from  lofty  hills  descending, 

Enchanting  with  their  wondrous  singing,  - 

Entrancing  with  the  joyous  ringing 
Of  their  sweet  varying  song  unending  ? 

Around  my  heart  fond  memories  linger ; 
For  here  the  impress  of  God's  finger, 


18  SUNLIGHT  ON  THE  MOUNTAINS. 

With  childish  eyes  I  viewed  with  wonder ; 
Here  saw  the  lightning,  heard  the  thunder, 
Which  peal  on  peal  sublime  resounded 
O'er  hights  which  the  sweet  vale  surrounded ; 
Where  first  I  learned  to  love  the  glory, 
And  love  the  grandeur  which  in  story 
No  tongue  may  e'er  relate,  nor  limner 
On  "glowing  canvas"  paint  the  glimmer 
Of  glad  Aurora's  faintest  setting, 
Sweet  meditation  oft  begetting. 


PENCILING*!.  19 


fenrilings 


ON  THE  SHORES  OF  LAKE  EEIE. 

THE  morn  was  dark,  the  winds  were  wild  and  high, 

And  sang  their  solemn  song  amid  the  leaves 

Of  graceful  elms  and  noble  maple  trees  ! 

I  thought  to  see  thy  bosom  wildly  stirred, 

As  stirs  the  human  breast,  when  grief  the  heart 

Doth  swell ;  but  when  along  thy  bank  I  strayed, 

Lo !  not  a  wavelet  on  thy  shore  was  seen ; 

Yet  farther  out  upon  thy  beauteous  blue, 

A  gentle  ripple  now  and  then  appeared, 

Which  seemed  like  peaceful  beatings  of  a  heart 

With  sweetest  bliss  o'erladen  :  and  I  stood 

And  gazed  with  wondering  joy  upon  thy  face, 

While  warbling  birds  their  matins  o'er  me  sang, 

Till  tranquillized  with  sweetest  thought,  my  pains 

Were  then  and  there  awhile  almost  forgot. 


20  PENCILIXGS. 

Another  morn  I  sought  the  sweet  retreat, 
For  happy  musings  of  an  earth-bound  soul, 
Which  pants  for  mightier  joys,  so  well  designed : 
Again  the  winds  were  wildly  singing  round, 
The  waves  were  dashing  high,  and  sent  the  spray 
In  snowy  wreaths  upon  thy  wave-worn  shore  1 
A  picture  meet  of  frail  humanity, 
When  on  life's  ocean  tossed,  till  hope's  sweet  voice 
Rings  through  the  portals  of  the  heart  no  more ; 
When  thrilling  memories  of  the  happy  past, 
But  make  the  darksome  present  gloomier  still. 

On  a  rude  seat,  by  Friendship  formed,  once  here 

I  sat,  to  list  the  music  of  thy  wave, 

While  cluster-laden  trees  shed  rich  perfumes, 

And  promise  gave  of  summer-ripening  fruits : 

Sweet  Nature's  music  on  the  breeze  was  borne, 

And  glad  I  heard  her  joyous  rnelodies, 

While  she  in  sweetest  numbers  praise-notes  sang : 

But  yet  over  my  spirit  sadness  stole — 

Sadness  at  thought  of  sorrow  not  my  own, 

But  hers  who  for  an  only  brother*  mourned, 

*  Andrew  M.  Sigourney. 


PENCILINGS.  21 

Who  in  life's  early  spring  was  called  from  earth, 

While  Hope  a  wreath  of  rosy  fragrance  twined, 

And  sweet  Affection  held  it  o'er  his  head ! 

I  thought  how  soon  again  the  vine  would  bloom, 

Which  shed  its  fragrance  through  the  lonely  mansion 

Where  parents'  and  a  sister's  tears  flowed  free, 

While  love-lit  eyes,  which  Death  was  dimming,  gazed 

Invitingly  on  eyes  that  answered  love, 

And  by  a  look  which  words  could  not  express, 

Seemed  gently  beckoning  dearest  friends  to  heaven. 

While  on  thy  shore  I  sat,  and  all  around 

Was  sweetly  beautiful,  I  thought  how  soon 

Love  o'er  his  peaceful  grave  would  rosebuds  strew, 

In  memory  of  the  withered,  faded  ones, 

Affection  on  his  snow-white  pillow  laid, 

When  Death,  with  Mercy's  angel  at  his  side, 

His  spirit  upward  called  to  God  and  heaven.     .   - 

So  with  thy  loveliness  inspiring  me, 

I  strove  some  words  of  cheer  for  her  to  write ; 

For  I,  who  by  an  only  brother's  side 

Had  watched,   when  Death  with  upraised   sword 

seemed  near, 
Full  well  might  guess  that  sister's  agony. 


22  PENCILINGS. 

Again  when  thou  wert  calmly  beautiful, 
And  eventide  was  near,  I  sat  me  down 
In  musing  mood  upon  thy  much  loved  shore : 
A  light  breeze  stirred  thy  bosom  peacefully, 
And  gently,  gently  out  upon  thy  depths, 
A  boat,  with  whitened  sail,  was  gliding  on ; 
And  while  it  floated  on  thy  limpid  wave, 
A  holy  lesson  of  sweet  faith  imparting, 
My  soul  so  buoyant  grew,  it  seemed  almost 
Some  drops  from  out  the  crystal  sea  of  heaven, 
By  angel  hands  were  sprinkled  on  my  heart. 

And  when  the  glorious  sun  descended  low, 
With  bounding  heart  I  watched  the  setting  orb, 
Which,  like  a  golden  boat  tossed  on  the  wave, 
Sank  slowly  down  behind  thy  waters  blue ; 
But  still  its  glory  lingered  on  the  cloud, 
Which  shone  like  fiery  pillar  of  the  Lord, 
Which  at  Jehovah's  gracious  mandate  rose, 
To  guide  the  wandering  hosts  of  Israel. 
I  gazed  with  silent,  but  with  heart-felt  joy, 
And  then  sweet  Hope,  from  out  her  golden  horn, 
Poured  precious  oil  upon  my  gladdened  heart, 
While  faith,  with  voice  enchanting,  to  that  heart 
Sang  gladsome  notes  of  holy  trust  and  sweet  repose. 


TENCILINGS.  23 

0  lake  so  beautiful !  I  bless  my  God 

For  the  sweet  music  of  thy  voice  so  grand ! 

1  listen  to  thy  lullaby  with  joy, 

And  grief  is  rocked  to  sleep  while  thus  I  list, 
And  as  thy  wave  leaps  up,  so  leaps  my  heart, 
Exultant  'neath  the  gladdening  smile  of  Heaven. 

O  beauteous  lake ! v  the  memory  of  those  hours 
Which  on  thy  shore  in  thoughtfulness  I've  spent, 
"When  gladness  made  my  heart  its  own  ^Eolian, 
And  when  its  quivering  strings  reechoed  notes 
Heard  only  by  my  joyous  spirit's  ear, 
By  me  can  never  more  forgotten  be. 

Over  my  heart  Hope  scattered  richest  dews, 
And  as  a  withering  plant,  by  timely  rains 
Eefreshed,  lifts  up  its  head  exultingly, 
So  rose  my  soul  in  grateful  praise  to  Heaven ; 
For  long  Disease  had  held  me  in  her  cage, 
And  here  her  bars  of  iron  so  strong  were  loosed, 
And  like  an  uncaged  bird,  I  roved  again 
O'er  hill  and  dell,  with  footstep  light  and  free  ! 
Then  wonder  not  that  I,  while  life  shall  last, 
Must  beauteous  Erie  ever  love  and  praise. 


24  LINES  ADDRESSED  TO  THE   PATIENTS 


ADDRESSED   TO  THE    PATIENTS    OF   DR.   G.   W.  S.,   OF 
CLEVELAND. 

"  TEA,  e'en  in  agonies  forbear 
To  doubt  Almighty  love; 
Whate'er  endears  eternity, 
Is  mercy  from  above." 

THEN  though  dark  clouds  o'ercast  your  spirit's  sky, 
And  fondly-cherished  expectations  fail, 
And  waves  of  deep  affliction  shall  arise, 
Still  let  the  star  of  Hope  beam  brightly  on : 
A  sunlight  from  above  may  gild  your  morn, 
If  ye  trust  in  "  Him  who  doeth  all  things  well." 
Then  though  your  cup  of  life  with  gall  seems 

filled, 

And  fondly-cherished  hopes,  like  withered  leaves, 
Swept  by  a  fiercely  rude  autumnal  blast, 
All  buried  lie,  fear  not,  but  "  look  aloft !" 


OF  DR.  G.  W.  S.,  OP  CLEVELAND.  25 

Yea,  see  the  star  of  Hope  beam  through  the  clouds, 
And  trust  in  "  Him  who  doeth  all  things  well." 

For  though  the  heart  oft  dreads  life's  bitter  things, 
And  tremblingly  doth  taste  Affliction's  cup, 
We  know  beneath  the  gall  there  sometimes  lies 
The  honey  pure  of  sorrow  sanctified ! 

Then   'mid  life's  joys  and  griefs,   oh!   trust  in 

Heaven ! 

And  when  the  death-damp  on  your  foreheads  lies, 
Oh  !  may  your  spirits  with  the  shining  bands 
That  walk  the  verdant  fields  of  Paradise, 
Arrayed  in  robes  of  Jesus'  righteousness, 
All  free  from  sin  and  pain  rove  joyously. 

Heaven  grant  that  there  we  meet,  a  band  un 
broken, 
To  sing  of  "  Him  who  doeth  all  things  well." 


26     "  FATHEK,  LET  THY  WILL  BE  DONE." 


it 


lathor,  let  Cto  TO  k  tow." 

'^-^1        6       '  6^0 


"  FATHER,  let  thy  will  be  done !" 
From  the  lips  of  God's  dear  Son, 
Came  these  -words  in  sorrow  spoken, 
Of  his  boundless  love  a  token, 
When,  with  spirit  almost  broken, 
In  Gethsemane  he  prayed ; 
When  the  night  he  was  betrayed, 
His  sad  heart  petition  made 
To  the  Father's  love  and  power, 
'Mid  the  horrors  of  that  hour  ^ 
When  the  anguish  of  his  soul, 
Caused  great  drops  of  blood  to  roll 
Oft  from  off  his  troubled  brow. 
See  him  in  submission  bow — 
Hear  the  Father's  only  Son ! 
On  the  cedar's  nightly  hum, 
In  that  hour  of  woe  and  care, 
Echoes  forth  his  earnest  prayer, 


"  FATHER,  LET  THY  WILL  BE  DONE."  27 

That  the  overflowing  cup, 
To  its  dregs  he  may  not  sup ; 
Yet  his  faith  hath  victory  won, 
For  breathes  he  forth  in  plaintive  tone : 
"  Father,  let  thy  will  be  done." 

Ere  with  traitor's  kiss  betrayed, 

Ere  in  mocking  robes  arrayed, 

Ere  the  gall  to  his  lips  was  pressed, 

And  the  earth,  in  darkness  dressed, 

Groaned  for  him  a  deep  and  long  farewell, 

Louder  than  the  peal  of  loudest  bell, 

With  a  more  than  prophet's  eye, 

He  beholds  his  destiny, 

Yet  with  trusting  heart  looks  towards  home, 

Sighing :  "  Father,  let  thy  will  be  done  1" 

Amid  mockery,  and  blows,  and  jeere, 
Jesus  full  of  gentleness  appears  I 
When  his  glorious  home  on  high  he  nears, 
Lo  I  what  bitter  anguish  rends  his  soul, 
For  he  drains  the  dregs  from  Sorrow's  bowl ; 
Then  awhile  they  lay  him  in  the  tomb, 
For  his  Father's  will  is  done. 


28  "  FATHER,  LET  THY  WILL  BE  DONE." 

But  the  Saviour  rises  from  the  tomb, 
Loving  hearts  prepare  to  give  him  room, 
For  a  while  with  them  he  doth  abide, 
Not  with  lofty  pomp,  nor  yet  with  pride  ; 
But  ere  long  the  heavens  are  opened  wide, 
God  the  Father  calls  him  to  his  side — 
To  his  bosom  he  enfolds  the  Son, 
Saying :  "  Lo !  Thy  throne  of  glory's  won  1 
For,  my  Son,  thy  Father's  will  is  done  1" 

Then  on  swiftest  wing,  with  gladdest  song, 
Comes  a  white-robed,  a  redeemed  throng  1 
Spirits  full  of  life  and  bliss  they  come, 
And  with  sweetest  smiles  of  peace,  the  Son 
Welcomes  them  around  his  glorious  throne. 
Joying  that  his  Father's  will  was  done. 

Pious  souls,  with  sorrow  laden, 
Look  ye  to  that  blissful  haven ; 
'Mid  your  sorrows  and  your  cares, 
Add  ye  ever  to  your  prayers, 
This  sweet  wish  of  God's  own  Son : 
"  Father,  let  %  will  be  done." 


"  FATHER,  LET  THY  WILL  BE  DONE."  29 

When  dear  friends  in  death  are  sleeping, 

When  the  gales  of  grief  are  sweeping 

O'er  your  heads,  oh  I  never  fear.! 

God  the  Father's  ever  near ; 

Jesus  Christ  beholds  you  weeping, 

Holy  angels  watch  are  keeping, 

Glorious  victory  ye  are  reaping 

O'er  yourselves  and  all  your  foes, 

If  ye  trust  in  Him  who  knows 

Every  want  and  every  care, 

And  who  hears  your  every  prayer. 

Though  ye  know  not  why  your  lot, 

Oft  is  with  affliction  fraught, 

Ever  steadfast  gaze  above, 

Trust  God's  power  and  trust  his  love  ; 

For  round  the  throne  of  God  and  of  his  Sou, 

Ye'll  praise  him  that  your  Father's  will  was  done. 


80  THE  POWER  OF  PRAYER. 


Cl}£  f  ote  of  f  rajer. 

PRAYER'S  like  a  golden  chain  on  Faith's  bright  wing, 

Upborne  to  highest  heaven,  to  be  let  down 

By  the  strong  hand  of  God  Omnipotent, 

Laden  with  rich  blessings  for  the  friends  for  whom 

In  warm  affection  oft  we  earnest  plead ! 

And  oft  upon  ourselves  are  blessings  poured, 

By  Him  who  gifts  most  bounteous  bestows, 

When  His  kind  aid  we  earnestly  implore. 

Prayer  makes  the  spirit  light,  and  makes  it  strong ; 
It  turns  our  foes  to  friends. 

This  Jacob  proved, 

When  all  night  long  he  wrestled  with  his  God, 
And  kind  embrace,  and  melting  tenderness, 
Took  place  of  hate  within  his  brother's  heart. 

'Tis  safe  to  trust  in  God,  and  pray  to  him 
Who  shut  the  lions'  mouths,  that  they  no  harm 


THE   POWER  OP  PRAYER.  31 

Could  do,  to  him  who  dared  on  Him  to  call, 

Even  at  the  risk  of  life,  while  enemies 

Kept  watch,  and  eagerly  sought  to  take  his  life. 

Though  all  night  long,  within  the  sealed  den, 
With  beasts  so  fierce  and  strong,  the  prophet  lay  ; 
His  voice  to  praise  attuned,  might  not  be  hushed, 
For  God  his  angel  sent,  and  kept  him  safe ; 
And  high  arose  the  notes  of  prayer  and  praise 
From  Daniel's  lips,  for  God  was  glorified, 
His  power  and  His  protection  were  displayed 
In  thus  preserving  him.     Then  opened  wide 
The  ravenous  jaws  of  lions  for  their  prey, 
While  they  who  sought  his  life,  into  the  den 
Were  thrown,  with  awful  groans,  while  limb  from 

limb 
Was  rudely  torn,  in  scarce  a  moment's  time. 

Prayer  makes  us  wise,  when  God  his  spirit  gives. 
This  Solomon  proved,  when  in  a  nightly  dream 
He  wisdom  sought,  above  all  things  beside  ; 
And  God,  with  his  petition  pleased,  gave  him 
Such  wisdom  as  none  ever  had  before. 


32  THE  POWER  OF  PRAYER. 

In  answer  to  strong  prayer,  the  Jewish  queen 
Might  blameless  disobey  the  Persian  law ; 
And  King  Ahasueras  doth  to  her 
Extend  the  golden  sceptre,  token  of  peace, 
And  granting  soon  her  wish,  he  disannuls 
The  sealed  petition  of  her  envious  foe  ; 
And,  scorned  amid  the  multitude  that  oft 
With  bended  knee  to  him  had  honors  paid, 
The  wretched  Hainan  dies,  while  he  whom  most 
He  sought  to  injure,  finds  exalted  place. 

Behold !  the  strongest  man  that  ever  lived, 
Shorn  of  his  strength,  with  brazen  fetters  bound, 
And  grinding  in  the  enemy's  prison-house ! 
But  lo !  'mid  heathen  revelings  he  comes  forth 
To  make  sport  in  the  temple  of  their  god ! 
While  they  rejoice  that  he  no  more  can  harm  them, 
Behold  1  his  sightless  eyes  upraised  to  Heaven  I 
His  heart  goes  up  to  God  in  fervent  prayer — 
His  strength  returns,  and  bowing  with  his  might 
Against  the  pillars  of  that  well-filled  house, 
The  revelings  of  his  foes  are  quickly  hushed, 
And  death-groans  take  the  place  of  noisy  shouts  ; 


. 

THE  POWER  OF  PRAFER.  33 

For  Samson  gladly  offers  up  his  life, 

And  with  Philistia's  lords  he  sleeps  in  death. 

Prayer  closed  the  windows  of  the  eastern  sky, 
For  more  than  forty  months  ;  then  opened  they, 
When  on  the  wing  of  faith  it  rose  again, 
And  pierced  the  clouds,   and  entrance  found    in 

Heaven. 

The  little  cloud,  no  larger  than  a  hand, 
Spread  out,  and  threw  its  darkness  o'er  the  sky, 
And  winds  arose,  and  rain  in  torrents  fell ; 
The  parched  earth  in  beauty  smiled  once  more, 
And  man  and  beast  again  looked  up  rejoicing. 

Prayer  raised  the  death-sealed  lids  of  Lazarus'  eyes, 
And  God  his  power  displayed,  when  from  the  tomb 
In  glowing  life  and  health  the  sleeper  rose. 

Prayer  binds  the  hearts  of  friends  with  sacred  ties, 
And  links  them  to  the  throne  of  God  on  high ; 
It  adds  new  lustre  to  our  brightest  joys,  . 
The  fainting  spirit  it  sustains  in  grief, 
And  brings  even  then  a  sweet  and  holy  calm. 
2* 


34  THE  POWER  OF  PRAYER. 

The  granting  of  our  wishes  God  postpones, 
That  he  our  faith  may  try,  and  strengthen  it, 
By  answering  when  our  grief  becomes  so  great, 
We  scarce  expect  the  aid  for  which  we've  plead. 

Then  let  the  voice  of  prayer  unceasingly 

Go  up  to  God,  All- wise,  Omnipotent, 

Since  He  our  Wisdom  is,  and  He  our  Strength  ; 

Our  Guardian,  and  the  Healer  of  our  woes ; 

Our  Shield,  our  sure  Defense  when  tempests  rise ; 

A  Friend  in  whom  'tis  ever  safe  to  trust. 


A  SKETCH.  35 


II   Z   t  t 


AT  the  close  of  a  bright  autumn  day, 

When  the  clouds  in  the  West  were  all  gay, 

When  the  sun  from  our  sight  had  just  gone, 

On  a  far-away  country  to  dawn ; 

Ere  the  moon  and  the  stars  were  called  out 

To  pursue  their  glad  nightly  route, 

A  small  cloud,  than  its  brothers  more  light, 

That  shone  out  most  effulgently  bright, 

Caught  my  eye — but  how  soon  it  had^ed, 

Like  the  rose  from  the  cheek  of  the  dead. 

Then  a  purple  tinged  one  that  was  near, 

Flung  its  pall  o'er  the  woods  that  were  sere, 

And  two  bands  of  light  clouds  stepped  out, 

And  I  fancied  I  heard  a  glad  shout, 

As  they  swept  o'er  the  sky,  at  the  close 

Of  the  day,  when  sweet  Cynthia  rose  ; 

Then  they  sang  o'er  the  woods  a  dirge-like  lay, 

As  they  spread  their  light  wings,  and  passed  away. 


36  A  SKETCH. 

With,  bright  blue  the  horizon  was  bounded, 
And  fresh  glories  the  forest  surrounded, 
And  I  thought  of  the  joys  of  this  earth, 
Which  pass  quickly  away  'mid  our  mirth. 
And  I  thought  of  the  bliss  of  high  heaven, 
As  I  gazed  on  the  clouds  of  that  even ; 
As  I  gazed  till  my  heart  did  rejoice, 
And  I  fancied  I  heard  a  glad  voice ; 
As  one  jewel,  then  others  as  bright, 
Quick  were  placed  on  the  brow  of  the  night, 
And  that  voice  was  so  sweet  unto  me, 
That  it  seemed  like  an  angel's  soft  lay. 

Then  the  winds  of  the  wood  were  all  hushed, 
And  a  troop  of  sweet  fancies  quick  rushed 
Through  my  soul ;  and  so  sweetly  they  came, 
And  so  swiftly  they  fled,  fain  I'd  name 
My  glad  thoughts  as  they  sped  quickly  on, 
Or  would  tell  out  my  joys  in  a  song, 
That  the  friends  that  I  love  might  partake, 
Of  the  bliss  of  that  hour :  I  would  wake 
In  my  soul  its  glad  memories  too, 
And  some  heart  from  its  grief  I  would  woo ; 


A  SKETCH.  37 

For  sweet  Nature  beguiles  the  sad  heart, 
And  its  sorrows  are  soothed,  while  apart 
From  the  world  and  its  cares,  the  soul  hears 
Her  soft  song  of  sweet  peace,  and  the  tears 
From  the  eye  cease  to  flow,  while  we  gaze 
On  her  beauties,  and  list  to  her  lays  ; 
And  we  bless  our  good  God  for  the  love 
He  bestows,  when  around  and  above, 
The  glad  voice  of  the  wind  and  the  cloud, 
Unto  us  chant  His  praises  aloud. 


38  CLEVELAND  CEMETERY, 


Cteland  Cemetery  toitjf 


"  "Pis  well  to  stand  where  others  sleep 

In  death's  last  dreamless  slumber, 

And  'mid  the  silence  lone  and  deep, 

Our  own  brief  moments  number." 

'TwAS  early  morn  —  the  moon  was  shining  beau- 

teously, 

And  stars  were  twinkling  on  in  silent  majesty, 
When  we  arose,  and  to  this  place  of  burial 
Our  footsteps  bent,  ere  the  glad  peal  of  morning  bell 
The  busy  city  stirred. 

It  was  an  Autumn  morn, 
And  thickly  on  the  pavement  fading  leaves  were 

strewn  ; 

And  as  amid  the  quiet  stillness  of  that  hour 
So  calm  and  holy,  when  to  thought  is  given  such 

power, 
I  listened  to  their  mournful  rustlings  'neath  my  feet, 


WITH  REFLECTIONS.  39 

(Whose  fragrance  rich  did  oft  the  while  my  senses 

greet, 
Like  sweetest  flowers  by  Fancy  plucked  in  midnight 

dream ;) 
Peace,   like  the  waters  of  that  pure  and  crystal 

stream 
Which  flows  before  the  throne  of  Jesus,  bathed  my 

soul, 

And  holy  musings  staid  my  heart  with  sweet  control. 
And  as  beside  that  pleasant  cemetery's  gate 
I  stood,  awhile  in  silent  thoughtfulness  to  wait, 
And  watched  the  play  of  morning  winds  amid  the 

trees 

That  shade  that  hallowed  ground,  a  sudden,  light 
some  breeze 
Caught  up   the    topmost  willow  branches  toward 

heaven, 
And  strained  and  held  them  high,  till  tongues  seemed 

to  them  given ! 

My  spirit  like  them  seemed  to  rise  above  this  earth, 
Until  terrestrial  things  all  seemed  of  little  worth, 
While  I  stood  near  the  portals  of  that  holy  land 
Where  is  no  night — but  on  whose  shores  a  peaceful 

band 


40  CLEVELAND  CEMETERY, 

Of  worshipers  whose  ashes  'neath  the  turf  here  sleep, 
Strike  joyously  their  lyres  to  music  rich  and  deep. 

The  gate  we  passed,  and  read  a  youthful  maiden's 

name 
Who  died  in  Christ.  Oh  I  better  far  than  earthly 

fame, 
For  death  to  those  who  die  in  Him  is  richest  gain! 

How  sweetly  rose  the  sun  that  bright  September 

morn, 
And  glanced  through  the  rich,  grateful  shade  that 

doth  adorn 
That  hallowed  ground  where  Love  doth  its  memorials 

raise, 
To  mark  the  place  where  loved  ones  sleep,  and  tell 

their  praise 
Perchance  upon  the  sculptured  stone,  that  those  who 

here 
Shall  come,  may  read  the  worth  of  those  the  heart 

held  dear. 

Here  infancy  is  sleeping,  with  a  little  hand 
Engraven  on  the  stone,  and,  pointing  towards  the  land 


WITH  REFLECTIONS.  41 

Which  no  temptation  knows,  it  bids  sweet  Faith  look 

up, 
And  view  the  sleeper  there,  from  Joy's  o'erflowing 

cup   ;••.." 
Quaffing  such  sweets  as  none  may  taste,  save  'mid 

heaven's  band: 
And  here's  a  little  sculptured  lamb,  with  drooping 

head, 
Upon  the  altar  'neath  which  lies  a  "first-born"  dead. 

Here  stands  a  monument  for  one  who  died  afar — 
No  thoughts  of  distant  home  his  quiet  rest  can  mar ; 
There  some  are  sleeping  near  the  friends  to  them 

most  dear, 
While  others,  far  from  home  and  friends,  are  sleeping 

here! 
Nor  tears,  nor  love,  nor  earnest  prayers  their  lives 

could  save ; 
Some  long  in  sickness  pined,  some  died  beneath  the 

wave. 

A  little  monument  most  beautiful  was  there, 
That  was  with  rose-buds  decked,  and  morning-glories 
fair; 


42  CLEVELAND  CEMETERY, 

"  God  lent  him  to  us  fifteen  months,"  was  there  en 
graven  : 

What  fitly-chosen  words,  and  full  of  trust  in  Heaven ! 
And  so  ye  gave  your  cherished  floweret  back  to  God, 
And  saw  your  dearly-loved  "Ipomea"  droop  its 

head! 

Yea,  even  when  its  sun  of  life  had  scarcely  risen, 
It  drooped,  and  then  was  borne  up  'mid  the  flowers 

of  heaven, 

To  blossom  in  the  garden  of  Immanuel, 
There  to  expand  beneath  the  sunshine  of  his  smile. 

"While  near  I  stood,  and  counted  twenty  little  graves, 
O'er  twelve  of  which  the  springing  grass  ne'er  gently 

waves, 
I  thought,  "  How  many  fathers'  hopes  have  blighted 

been, 

And  tender  mothers,  too,  have  wept,  and  wept  again 
For  loved  ones  from  them  gone  " — for  ah !  not  long 

ago 

I  saw  the  seal  of  death  placed  on  an  infant's  brow, 
And  saw  the  father  seek  in  tears  a  sad  relief — 
The  youthful  mother  turn  away  o'erwhelmed  with 

grief, 


WITH  REFLECTIONS.  48 

From  the  last  gaspings  of  her  first-born,  only  child. 

I  heard  no  bitter  wail  of  anguish  loud  and  wild, 

From  those  who  loved  that  flower  so  beauteous  and 
so  fair, 

And  yet  I  knew  their  hearts — that  grief  was  rank 
ling  there. 

The  Autumn  winds  had  laid  a  sere  leaf  on  a  tomb — 
Meet  emblem  this,  of  blooming  youth  by  death  cut 

down! 
A  withered  rose,  I  marked,  perchance  by  Love  laid 

there, 
Upon  another  stone — all  faded  now,  yet  fair. 

Now  to  a  plat  of  ground  with  fitting  monument, 
Where  sleep  a  mother  and  her  babe,  my  steps  I 

bent. 

"When  first  the  place  I  visited,  a  violet 
Was  o'er  them  blooming,  and  though  dead,  it  stands 

here  yet ;  -t 

And  when  on  an  autumnal  morn  I  wandered  here, 
A  sweet  "  Dianthus' "  withered  stalks  told  me  those 

dear 


44  CLEVELAND  CEMETERY, 

Young  sleepers  were  remembered  yet;  and  Fancy 

drew 
Their  pictures  fair,  though  naught  of  them  in  life  I 

knew. 

I  onward  passed — soon  to  a  simple  stone  I  came, 
On  which  were  graven  the  words,  "  My  brother,"  and 

the  name  I  ._  + 

The  petals  of  a  pale,  fair  rose  above  that  grave, 
Swayed  by  autumnal  winds,  did  gently  o'er  it  wave. 
"Perchance,"  thought   I,   "some   sister's  toil  hath 

raised  this  stone, 
And  she  from  home  and  friends  afar  doth  hither 

come, 

When  daily  toil  is  o'er,  to  weep  beside  the  tomb 
Of  one  whom  poverty  had  made  but  doubly  dear, 
And  little  cares  she  that  the  passing  throng  should 

here 
Read  where  he  lived,  or  when  he  died — or  shed  a 

tear." 

In  thoughtful  mood  I  paused  beside  a  humble  grave : 
How  thick  grow  willow  branches  here !  how  sweetly 
wave! 


WITH  REFLECTIONS.  45 

I  parted  them,  and  read  a  reverend  pastor's  name, 
And  then  with  care  I  placed  them  o'er  that  stone 

again, 

For  sacrilege  'twould  seem  to  leave  them  thus  apart — 
Perchance,  too,  it  might  pain  some  gentle  mourner's 

heart. 

Thus  would  /  sleep — not  in  some  wilderness  away, 
Nor  yet  with  splendid  monument,  and  gilded  gay, 
Built  up  in  place  conspicuous  to  the  stranger's  sight ; 
But  let  me  sleep  where  others  sleep,  and  roses  white, 
By  sweet  affection  planted  near  my  grave,  entwine 
Their  branches  round  the  simple  stone  which  memo 
ry's  shrine 

Shall  prove,  and  those  I  love  come  here  at  sweet  twi 
light, 
To   nurse  remembrances   of    by-gone  hours  most 

bright, 

And  let  a  willow  tree  its  branches  bend  so  low, 
My  tombstone  shading,  that  the  stranger  who  would 

know 

Who  there  is  sleeping  must  those  branches  part  aside, 
To  read  my  name — carved  words  which  drooping 
boughs  will  hide. 


•16  ,  CLEVELAND  CEMETERY, 

Ah  I  say  not  that  it  is  a  useless  act  and  lorn, 
The  lowly  resting-place  of  loved  ones  to  adorn  ; 
For  here  the  spirit  seems  with  joy  to  plume  its  wings, 
And  finds  most  holy  and  most  high  imaginings. 

Yet  bring  not  gaudy  flowers  for  graves  of  friends  so 

dear, 
But  bring  pale  flowers,  yet  fair  and  sweet,  and  plant 

them  here ; 

Yea,  bring  the  lowly  violet — bring  fragrant  flowers, 
To  deck  the  graves  of  those  ye  love,  from  dearest 

bowers : 
Ay,  bring  the  vernal  wild- wood  flower  that  earliest 

blooms, 
And  bring  fair  summer  flowers,  to  wither  on  the 

tombs 
Of  loved  ones  gone — bring  Autumn  flowers,  and 

leaflets  sere, 
And  with  Affection's  fairest  flowers  entwine  them 

here. 

°<ome  plant  the  willow  tree  whose  leaves  in  Autumn 

fall, 
And  let  those  leaves  upon  the  graves  lie  like  a  pall ; 


WITH  KEFLECTIONS.  47 

And  plant  the  unfading  box,  or  larger  evergreen — 
Yea,  plant  them  here  and  there,  the  willow  trees  be 
tween  ; 

For  while  these  speak  of  joys  we  cherish  transiently, 
Those  whisper  of  the  sjJirit's  immortality. 

Oh!    Death  full  oft  the  dearest  ties  of  Friendship 

breaks, 
And  Love-twined  hearts  it  often  from  each  other 

takes. 
But  who  can  tell  us  WHAT  is  DEATH? 

A  fearful  thing 

it  surely  is,  to  those  who  love  not  God  our  King ! 
But  what  is  death  to  him  who  in  his  Saviour  dies  ? 
Though  'tis  the  breaking  of  earth's  strongest,  dearest 

ties, 

'Tis  but  the  glad  unfolding  of  that  pearly  door 
Which  leads  him  to  the  land  where  sorrow  is  no  more ; 
'Tis  only  the  unvailing  of  those  glories  bright, 
Which,  while  earth  is  our  home,  are  hidden  from  our 

sight. 

It  is  the  flickering  lamp  of  life  extinguished  here, 
To  burn  with  brighter  flame  above  this  earthly 

sphere. 


48  ADONIS. 

Then  why  with  tears  of  woe  bedew  the  Christian's 

tomb? 

Why  thus  enwrap  his  peaceful  resting-place  in  gloom  ? 
Fond  love  must  weep  o'er  blighted  hopes,  and  ties 

thus  riven — 
Must  weep,  even  when  she  feels  her  loved  ones  are 

in  Heaven. 


INSCRIBED  TO  A  BEREAVED  FRIEND. 

WHEN  gleam  the  stars,  and  night's  pale  watcher 

beams, 

Thou  comest,  love,  to  visit  me  in  dreams : 
Enwrapped  in  glorious  robes  my  own  Adonis  then  I 

see! 

Above  the  parted  clouds — beneath  a  radiant  canopy — 
Reclining  on  a  golden  pave,  o'ershadowed  by  Life's 

tree, 


ADONIS.  49 

And  listening  to  the  blending  strains  of  Heaven's 
minstrelsy, 

In  thoughtfulness  he  lies,  his  spirit  filled  with  melody, 

And  all  the  long,  long  night  he  watches — watches 
over  me ; 

And  his  white  hand  is  kindly  beckoning — beckoning 
unto  me — 

His  spirit-lips  are  gently,  oh !  how  gently  I  whisper 
ing  me, 

That  soon,  yes  soon  again  we  shall  together  happy 
be! 

Alone  am  I,  yet  ah !  how  can  I,  can  I  lonely  be, 

When  thus  through  all  the  long,  long  night  he 
watches  over  me ! 


Amid  the  holy  angels,  dearest,  I  have  heard  thee 

sing; 
And  while  thy  snowy  hand  was  trembling  o'er  the 

sounding  string, 
Whose  notes  melodious  flowed,  Heaven's  pearly  gate 

was  left  ajar — 
A  new-fledged  spirit  from  the  earth  soared  far  above 

each  star. 

3 


50  ADONIS. 

My  soul  then  caught  the  softly-trilling  echo  of  thy 

lyre, 
While  thou  didst  list,  the  footstep  of  the  welcomed 

one  to  hear : 
For  thou,  my  darling  and  my  love,  didst  miss  me 

from  thy  side, 
And  from  sweet  melodies  didst  turn,  to  watch  above 

thy  bride. 

Oh !  wait  for  me,  love,  on  that  delightful  shore ! 
Oh !  meet  me,  love,  at  Heaven's  radiant  door ! 
Thy  spirit-arms  shall  joyous  clasp  thy  bride, 
And  I  shall  be  forever  at  thy  side. 
Oh !  what  but  joy,  my  darling,  will  death  be  to  me, 
If  I  may  be  forever,  and  for  aye  with  thee ! 


JESUS  PREACHING  BY  THE  SEASIDE.  51 


i\t 


IN  quiet  beauty  slept  Genessaret. 
An  eager  and  expectant  multitude, 
Who  oft  had  listed  to  the  words  that  fell 
Like  manna  from  his  lips,  round  Jesus  stood. 
No  gorgeous  pulpit  was  upreared  by  Art, 
Whose  golden  steps  the  Saviour  might  ascend  ; 
But  near  the  margin  of  that  placid  lake, 
Whose  banks  his  toil-worn  feet  so  oft  had  trod, 
When  nightly  breezes  stirred  his  flowing  hair, 
And  all  his  garments  damp  with  midnight  dews, 
In  earnest  prayer  he  bowed  his  weary  soul, 
While  rippling  waves  that  kissed  the  rocky  shore, 
And  deeper  ocean  murmurs  whispered  out, 
In  low  and  solemn  sighings,  their  Amens  : 
Yea,  near  that  shore  two  ships  were  safely  moored, 
Whose  masters  all  night  long  had  slowly  toiled, 
And  anxious  dragged  their  nets,  yet  nothing  caught  ; 


52  JESUS  PREACHING  BY  THE  SEASIDE. 

And  now  they  dip  those  nets  beneath  the  wave 
To  wash  away  their  filth,  while  heavenly  food 
Doth  Jesus  to  the  multitude  dispense, 
Which  on  the  shore  expectant  stands,  to  hear 
His  gracious  words. 

While  in  his  wave-rocked  desk 
He  sits,  in  Nature's  grand  cathedral  stand 
His  hearers  glad. 

It  is  a  solemn  hour, 

And  gentle  zephyrs  lift  the  whispering  leaves : 
Then  all  is  silence — silence  deep,  profound ! 
The  sea  itself  seems  listening  to  his  words 
Of  holy  teaching,  while  to  the  eager  crowd 
In  parables  he  speaks. 

The  aged  man 
Whose  form  was  bowed  with  weight  of  years — whose 

heart 

Perchance  had  cold  and  unbelieving  grown, 
And  youthful  ones  whose  cheeks  were  flushed  with 

hope, 

Before  him  stood  attentive  listeners ; 
And  then  perchance,  reviling  ones  their  doubts 
To  others  whispered,  or  their  wonder  told, 
That  He,  the  carpenter's  Son,  should  wisely  speak, 


JESUS  PREACHING  BY  THE  SEASIDE.  53 

Convincing  them  even  quite  against  their  wills, 
He  is  the  promised  Lord — the  Son  of  God. 

And  when  that  scroll  shall  be  unrolled,  on  which 

The  deeds  of  men  of  every  age  are  writ, 

Who,  who  that  stood  amid  that  listening  crowd, 

Shall  find  the  seed  the  Saviour  sowed  that  day, 

Spread  out  its  roots  within  his  heart,  and  grew 

Unchecked  by  tares  or  thorns — unplucked  by  fowls, 

And  yielded  many-fold  to  Jesus'  praise  ? 

Ah !  who  shall  find  that  "  leaven  "  spread  abroad 

To  purify  his  own  and  others'  hearts  ? 

And  who  the  cherished,  blood-bought  pearl  shall 

wear, 

By  which  an  entrance  to  the  skies  is  gained  ? 
And  who,  neglecting  all  the  proffered  wealth 
The  Saviour  would  have  gladly,  freely  given, 
Shall  stand  condemned  and  poor  indeed,  before 
The  throne  of  judgment  at  the  last  great  day, 
When  Memory's  mournful  echoes  on  their  ears 
Shall  fall,  like  solemn  dirge  or  passing  bell, 
Kecalling  hours  when  Christ  with  outspread  hand, 
Sowed  seeds  of  truth  they  cared  not  then  to  tend, 
Nor  sought  their  spirits'  soil  to  cultivate ! 


54  EPITAPHS. 


How  fondly  clustering  hopes  round  thee  were  twined ! 

For  as  the  beauties  of  the  expanding  rose 
Cheer  him  who  cultures  it,  thou,  cherished  one, 

Didst  cheer  our  hearts,  and  lighten  all  our  woes. 

THINE  early  grave  1  oh !  'tis  a  holy  place, 

Where   Hope  and  Love  oft  twine  their  faded 
flowers, 

While  mournful  Memory  chants  a  dirge-like  song, 
And  whispers  of  the  joys  of  by-gone  hours. 

THOU  wert  to  us  a  lovely  flower  1 

A  valued  gem  to  us  by  Heaven  lent, 
Our  pathway  here  awhile  to  cheer : 

But  oh !  how  early  Death  for  thee  was  sent  1 


EVENING  THOUGHTS.  55 


(Smthtg 


WHITE  clouds  go  drifting  by  to-night  — 
The  moon  shines  gloriously  bright, 
The  sparkling  snow  unspotted  lies, 
And  not  a  zephyr  round  me  sighs. 

A  calm  as  sweet  as  Nature's  own 
Around  my  spirit  here  is  thrown, 
As  though  some  angel  fanned  my  brow, 
And  gently  whispered  to  me  now. 

Up,  up,  and  higher  up  it  flies, 
Till  near  the  portals  of  the  skies, 
My  soul  sits  trembling  with  delight, 
To  gaze  on  scenes  surpassing  bright. 

Heaven's  pearly  gates  seem  to  unfold  ! 
Within  those  battlements  of  gold 
Which  guard  the  mansions  of  the  blest, 
I  see  bright  forms  in  glory  dressed. 


66  EVENING  THOUGHTS. 

And  hark !  there's  music  on  the  air, 
For  golden  harps  glad  angels  bear, 
While  up  on  buoyant  wings  they  rise, 
And  chant  the  songs  of  Paradise. 

Was  it  some  angel's  footfall  o'er 
Heaven's  radiant  gold  and  crystal  floor, 
I  heard?  or  note  from  a  loved  one's  lyre, 
Whose  spirit  caught  "  a  seraph's  fire"  ? 

The  new  Jerusalem  is  fair, 

Its  glories  all  inviting  are, 

But  the  soul's  bright  home  is  dearer  far, 

For  the  sweet  love  of  dear  ones  there. 


TO  ME.  ,  ON  HIS  WIFE'S  DEATH.  67 


Cc     tr.  -  0u    ts  SKife'a 


AN  ANONYMOUS  COMMUNICATION  WRITTEN   BY   RE 
QUEST  OF  A  FRIEND  OF  THE  AFFLICTED. 

"  THEY  sin  who  say  that  love  can  die." 

"  No  joy  nor  grief  may  bury  thought 

In  dread  oblivion's  somber  wave  : 
Thus  friendship  lives  and  changeth  not: 

It  brightens  ever  o'er  the  grave. 
The  soul  released  looks  from  above, 

To  greet  its  partner  left  behind, 
Who,  prompted  by  undying  love, 

Would  soar  an  absent  mate  to  find. 
Friends  can  not,  will  not  parted  be, 

In  time  nor  in  eternity." 

FULL  well  I  know  'tis  hard  to  part  with  those 
The  heart  holds  dear,  but  may  a  stranger  dare 
Attempt  to  pour  a  balm  upon  thy  wound, 
And  write  of  joys  beyond  this  fleeting  life  ? 
3* 


58        TO  ME. ,  ON  HIS  WIFE'S  DEATH. 

While  thou  didst  bend  in  untold  agony, 

O'er  that  loved  form  from  which  the  soul  had  fled, 

Didst  see  the  pearly  gates  of  heaven  unfold, 

And  ere  the  parted  lips  were  closed  in  death, 

Didst  hear  the  angel  minstrels  softly  chant 

For  her  a  sweet  and  gentle  welcome  home  ? 

Canst  see  her  now  arrayed  in  spotless  robes, 

Before  the  golden  throne  of  Paradise, 

Her  spirit  with  celestial  joys  entranced, 

While  heaven's  harmonious  choir  around  her  sings  ? 

Ah  1  nearest  thou  how  now  her  voice  and  harp 

With  loftiest  notes  of  seraphim  do  blend  ? 


And  canst  thou  think  that  in  that  glorious  world 
Where  all  is  love,  thy  wife  doth  love  thee  less  ? 
Ah !  no,  sure  as  the  angel's  wing  is  strong — 
Sure  as  the  immortal  mind  expands  when  in 
Its  radiant  home  it  lives  with  God,  and  roams 
With  spirits  taught  of  "  Him  whose  name  is  Love ;" 
So  sure,  methinks,  do  those  we  fondly  love, 
There  love  with  purer,  stronger,  deeper  love 
The  hearts  whose  tendrils   here  with  theirs  were 
twined. 


TO  MR.  ,  ON  HIS  WIFE'S  DEATH.  59 

Since  He  who  gave  and  He  who  took  her  hence, 
When  but  his  will  permits,  hath  power  the  means 
To  bless,  gave  not  the  skill  her  to  restore, 
But  kindly  took  her  early  up  to  heaven, 
"Wouldst  call  thine  angel  watcher  from  her  home, 
And  take  the  golden  harp  from  out  her  hand, 
And  tear  the  wreath  of  glory  from  her  brow, 
And  bind  the  enfranchised  spirit  to  its  clay, 
That  she  amid  earth's  griefs  with  thee  may  walk  ? 

Think  not  of  her  as  in  the  silent  grave  1 
But  think  of  her  as  with  the  ransomed  ones, 
Who  day  and  night  around  the  Eternal's  throne 
Are  flying,  with  heaven's  songs  of  ceaseless  joy, 
Forever  flowing  from  the  lips  which  speak 
Only  of  holy  bliss,  and  love,  and  praise ; 
Forever  warbling  from  their  golden  lyres, 
By  our  Immanuel  himself  attuned ; 
And  since  she  is  by  God  so  richly  blest, 
Canst  not  amid  thy  solitude  and  grief, 
Now  whisper,  "  Father,  let  thy  will  be  done"  ? 


60       CHEIST'S  BURIAL  AND  RESURRECTION. 


flrial  atrtr 


LIST  I  it  is  finished,  the  Eedeemer  cries  ! 

• 

Yea  —  rulers,  kings,  and  priests  have  power  no  more 

To  injure  Him  who  died  to  save  a  world  : 

No  more  can  cruel  mockeries  grieve  his  soul  — 

His  head  is  bowed  —  he  sleeps  the  sleep  of  death. 

Yes  !  it  is  finished  —  Christ  the  Lord  is  slain, 

And  weeping  friends,  and  wondering  enemies, 

Gaze  yet  with  awe  upon  that  thorn-crowned  brow  I 

But  Joseph  comes  —  to  Pilate  comes,  to  beg 

A  dear  and  loving  Saviour's  mangled  corse, 

And  carefully  'tis  borne  by  kindest  friends, 

From  that  dread  place  of  agony  away. 

A  train  of  weepers,  who  with  grief  sincere 

Surround  the  Lord,  the  last  kind  offices 

To  pay,  must  haste,  for  night  is  drawing  near  : 

The  thorny  crown  they  take  from  his  torn  brow  ; 

The  Mary  unto  whom  was  much  forgiven, 

Who  therefore  loved  him  much,  perchance  from  off 


CHRIST'S  BURIAL  AND  RESURRECTION.        61 

His  swollen  hands  and  feet  the  bloody  drops 
Doth  wipe,  and  bathes  them  yet  once  more  with  tears ; 
Then  with  a  lingering  clasp  she  holds  his  hands, 
And  gazes  on  his  wounds  all  mournfully, 
Scarce  dreaming  with  new  life  he  soon  will  rise — 
To  glory  rise. 

Now  on  a  grassy  plat 

They  spread  the  linen  purely  white  and  new, 
And  choicest  spices  sprinkle  o'er  it  there, 
And  tenderly  around  his  stiffening  form, 
The  snowy  drapery  they  closely  wrap  ; 
And  she  who  laid  him  in  his  manger-bed — 
Who  watched  the  first  faint  smile  around  his  lips, 
And  caught  the  earliest  lispings  of  his  tongue, 
Methinks  with  all  a  mother's  tenderness 
Now  bends,  while  through  her  soul  a  sword  is  pierc 
ing, 

To  print  the  last  fond  kiss  upon  his  brow, 
Ere  on  his  rocky  bed  her  child  is  laid ; 
And  he  who  'mid  his  weary  wanderings 
Claimed  not  a  place  to  lay  his  head,  now  sleeps 
Securely  in  the  garden  of  the  great — 
Alone  within  a  new-made  sepulchre. 


62        CHRIST'S  BURIAL  AND  RESURRECTION. 

"Pis  evening — to  a  weary  couch  each  friend          * 

Hath  gone,  to  meditate  his  life  and  death  I 

A  band  of  Koman  soldiers  guards  the  tomb, 

Who  dare  not  sleep,  for  penalty  of  death ! 

Ah !  soldiers,  guard  ye  well  the  sepulchre  ! 

Let  no  intruder  come  to  steal  away 

The  breathless  form,  and  say  that  he  has  risen  I 

But  ah !  what  sudden  change  comes  o'er  them  now  !   < 

What  sudden  fear  appalls  the  keepers'  hearts  ? 

Who  dares  to  come  tfie  tomVs  strong  seal  to  break  ! 

Lo !  angels'  hands  have  rolled  the  stone  away, 

And  clothed  in  white,  as  messengers  they  sit 

Within  the  sepulchre  where  Christ  hath  lain, 

To  tell  beloved  friends  that  he  hath  risen. 


No  need  of  costly  spices  brought  that  morn 
So  early,  by  the  friends  he  dearly  loved, 
Who  trembling,  fearing,  doubting,  wondering, 
Behold  attendant  angels  guard  the  place 
Where  with  deep  sorrow  late  they  laid  him  down, 
With  faith  not  yet  sufficient  to  believe 
His  resurrection  morn  so  soon  would  come. 


CHRIST'S  BURIAL  AND  RESURRECTION.        63 

The  mystery  is  great,  and  yet  with  joy 

Their  hearts  are  filled,  while  angels  bid  them  come 

And  see  where  Christ  hath  lain. 

The  Saviour  lives, 

And  soon  ascended  to  his  native  skies, 
A  Sovereign  Ruler  at  his  Father's  side 
Shall  sit,  to  judge  the  world :  for  those  he  loves, 
An  ever-glorious  home  he  will  prepare 
Within  the  mansions  purchased  by  his  blood, 
And  soon  shall  they  who  mourned  his  cruel  death, 
With  Jesus  dwell  in  his  celestial  home. 


64:  "  SLANDER.' 


"Slanhr." 

PEOV.  25  : 18. 

WHAT  is  the  slanderer's  tongue  ?  An  arrow  strong, 
And  sharp,  and  fierce,  empoisoning  many  a  word, 
Such  as  to  devils  only  do  belong, 
When  they,  by  Envy  and  by  Malice  stirred, 
Do  contemplate  dark  deeds,  and  souls  do  gird 
For  vilest  crimes,  and  with  their  deadly  bane, 
The  good  man-  rob  of  fame — with  lies  absurd 
Asunder  rend  kind  Friendship's  gold-linked  chain, 
And  break  the  three-fold,  silken  cord  of  Love  amain. 

What  is  the  slanderer's  tongue  ?    An  unsheathed 

sword 

With  keenest  edge,  which  without  mercy  cuts, 
Over  which  Hatred  has  her  poison  poured ; 
And  he  who  doth  that  sword  employ,  oft  shuts 
From  out  his  heart  the  beams  of  love,  and  gluts 


"  SLANDER."  65 

His  wrath  and  vengeance  on  superior  minds, 
And  little  recks  of  dread  account,  but  puts 
Far  off  his  evil  day,  until  he  finds 
His  awful  sentence  writ  by  God  in  fearful  lines. 

What  weapon  hath  she  more  ?    A  heavy  maul, 
"Which  Malice  forged  for  her  one  day, 
While  Envy,  Slander's  mother,  blew  the  coal. 
She  placed  it  in  her  hands,  and  bade  her  slay 
The  good  wherever  found.     Swift  to  obey, 
She  beat  with  heavy  blows  a  neighbor's  name. 
Long  in  the  dust  a  blackened  thing  it  lay, 
Despised,   neglected,   spurned,  and  clothed  with 

shame — 
For  none  there  were  to  free  the  innocent  from  blame. 

For  with  so  bold  a  face  did  Slander  deal 
Her  cruel  blows,  that  Innocence,  abashed, 
Dared  not  to  lift  her  head ;  nor  could  conceal 
The  slanderer's  wounds.     Her  cup  of  joy  was 

dashed 

From  out  her  hand — weeping  she  lay  aghast 
With  fear  and  woe,  till  Truth  did  guess  her  case, 
And  kindly  raise  her  head.    Her  dark  eye  flashed 


66  "  SLANDER." 

With  zeal  and  rage,  and  Slander's  wounds  so  base, 
She  quickly  healed,  and  all  her  bruises  did  efface. 

A  youth  of  wit  and  worth,  though  humble  name, 
"With  skill  and  perseverance  did  ascend, 
Until  the  summit  of  the  hill  of  Fame 
He  gained :  but  Envy  fain  would  quickly  rend 
The  laurels  from  his  brow,  and  so  did  send 
Slander  with  secret  aim  to  hurl  at  him 
Her  spite  and  lies,  but  God  did  him  defend, 
And  like  a  radiant  light  o'er  distance  dim, 
His  glory  spread,  and  Slander's  dart  his  lamp  did 
trim. 

For  though  her  pliant  bow  was  newly  strung, 
And  thick  and  fast  her  feathered  arrows  flew, 
And  through  the  misty  air  their  echoes  rung, 
The  light  around  his  head  more  lustrous  grew ; 
For  Innocence  forth  from  her  treasures  drew 
A  golden  shield,  and  clasped  it  o'er  his  heart, 
While  Truth  held  up  a  golden  lamp  and  new ! 
While  through  its  lucent  flame  flew  on  the  dart 
From  Slander's  quiver,  brighter  light  it  did  impart. 


"  SLANDER."  67 

It  trembled  on  the  shield  of  Innocence — 

The  good  man  gazed,  and  by  its  blood-stained 

shade 

He  knew  full  well  who  formed  it,  and  from  whence 
It  came — he  plucked  it  from  the  shield  and  bade 
The  innocent  "  tremble  not,  nor  be  afraid." 
With  ferce  redoubled  Slander  drew  her  bow 
And  furious  all  her  cruel  haste  betrayed, 
But  soon  was  heard  a  horrid  shriek  of  woe, 
As  her  rebounding  dart  did  to  her  forehead  go. 

Hopest  thou  to  escape  by  doing  well  ?   False  hope  I 

For  Slander  dips  the  arrow  of  her  tongue 

In  hate  still  deeper,  and  inflicts  a  stroke, 

If  she  but  hear  that  thou  art  praised  among 

The  good.      The  slanderer's  heart  with  woe  is 

wrung, 

If  he  may  not  on  others  evil  bring, 
And  hearts  that  fondly  to  each  other  clung, 
Oft  sorrow  feel  in  every  trembling  string, 
When  rudely  from  each  other  forced  by  Slander's 

sting. 


68  "  SLANDER." 

Doth  Slander  aim  at  thee  her  deadly  dart? 
Chase  not  her  lies  I     Trust  God  and  wait  awhile, 
And  thou  shalt  fling  the  viper  from  thy  heart, 
And  feel  no  harm.    Though  now  her  falsehoods 

vile, 

May  seem  thy  reputation  to  defile, 
And  friends  whose  love  thou  prizest,  have  grown 

cold, 

They  yet  shall  greet  thee  with  a  warmer  smile 
Than  ever  blessed  thee  in  the  days  of  old — 
With  warmer  clasp  shall  to  their  bosoms  thee  enfold. 

Yet  should  there  still  be  unkind  souls  who  grudge 
Thee  honors  due,  and  still  will  censure  thee, 
A  day  is  coming  when  before  the  Judge 
Of  all  the  earth,  shall  thine  accusers  see 
Their  falsehoods  fade,  as  shades  of  darkness  flee 
Before  the  dawning  sun,  when  by  thy  God, 
If  innocent,  thou  shalt  acquitted  be, 
And  'mid  the  angel  bands  that  long  have  trod 
Heaven's  streets  shalt  stand,  while  they  shall  writhe 
beneath  his  rod. 


ARE  THE  SAINTED  DEAD  LOST?  69 


i\t 


ARE  they  who  sleep  in  Jesus  lost  ?    Ah !  no. 
Unchanging  is  their  love,  and  when  they  go 
For  aye  with  heavenly  worshipers  to  dwell, 
"We  love  to  think  that  all  with  them  is  well — 
That  God  with  joy  supreme  their  souls  will  bless, 
For  much  we  love  them  still.     Oh !  yes,  oh !  yes. 

Are  they  who  sleep  in  Jesus  lost  ?    Ah !  no. 
Their  smiles  will  cheer  us  here  no  more  we  know ; 
But  memory  binds  our  hearts  with  holiest  spell, 
While  oft  in  silvery  tones  her  voice  doth  well 
Eehearse  unto  the  listening  spirit's  ear, 
A  tale  which  Love  as  oft  delights  to  hear. 

How  fondly  dwells  she  on  the  happy  hours 
When  Joy  and  Hope  enwreathed  their  golden  flow 
ers, 


70  ARE  THE  SAINTED  DEAD  LOST? 

And  Faith  plucked  healing  leaves  from  heavenly 

bowers 

To  bind  around  their  brows ;  and  joy  was  ours, 
Perchance  e'en  when  the  parting  strife  was  o'er, 
And  the  freed  spirit,  at  heaven's  pearly  door 
Was  waiting,  still  to  watch  the  beaming  smile 
That  played  around  the  lip  and  eye  the  while, 
Revealing  joys  that  on  that  spirit  broke, 
When  slept  the  body,  and  the  soul  awoke 
To  bliss  eternal  in  the  courts  of  heaven : 
But  yet  we  wept  that  earthly  ties  were  riven. 

Is  not  our  glorious  home  dear,  dearer  far, 
When  those  we  love  are  waiting  for  us  there  ? 
Is  not  the  Christian's  spirit  fired  with  zeal, 
Doth  not  a  holier  peace  around  him  steal, 
When  thinks  he  how  the  loved  of  heaven,  in  love 
And  bliss  are  growing  in  the  world  above  ? 

When  friendly  hands  that  fondly  clasped  our  own, 
All  silently  are  folded  in  the  tomb, 
We  hold  the  things  of  earth  with  looser  hand, 
And  oftener  look  unto  the  spirit-land, 


ABE  THE  SAINTED  DEAD   LOST?  71 

Where  those  we  love,  enrobed  in  spotless  white, 
Wing  their  glad  way  through  skies  of  cloudless  light. 

Oh !  surely  then  the  dead  so  doubly  dear, 
Whose  memory  often  brings  the  unbidden  tear ; 
Of  whom  we  love  to  think  as  safe  in  heaven, 
Although  we  grieve  that  they  from  us  are  riven, 
Can  not  forgotten  be.     A  golden  tie 
Binds  us  to  heaven,  and  less  we  dread  to  die, 
When  dearest  friends  have  through  Death's  valley 

passed, 
To  joys  that  will  forever,  ever  last. 


72  TO   MBS.  L.  H.  SIGOURNEY. 


—^  ('•v  %  V  (X/V          CW  (~\f  + 

€0  Jto,  Hi.  jg.  j&ottnttj. 


ON  THE  DEATH  OF  HER  SON. 

MOURNER,  with  thee  we  weep  —  for  thee  we  pray  I 
Thou  who  the  precious  balm  of  sympathy 
So  oft  o'er  sorrow-burdened  hearts  hast  poured, 
Wilt  kindly  listen  to  my  humble  strain, 
While  I,  from  far,  attempt  for  thee  to  write  ? 

That  harp,  to  which  I  oft  with  Fancy's  ear 
Have  listed,  while  my  griefs  have  lighter  grown  — 
I  mourn  that  now  its  numbers  are  so  sad  ! 
Yet  though  thou  weepest  for  thine  only  son, 
Jesus,  thy  Friend,  methinks  will  comfort  thee  : 
And  ah  !  doth  not  an  angel  watcher  stoop, 
To  lay  upon  thy  heart  a  healing  leaf, 
Plucked  from  some  evergreen  of  Paradise? 

Oh  !  bare  thy  heart  —  that  healing  leaf  receive  ! 
And  may  its  fragrance  rich,  and  strengthening  power, 


TO   MKS.  L.  H.  SIGOUBNEY.  73 

Thy  griefs  assuage,  while  thou  dost  upward  look, 
Beyond  the  woes  of  earth,  and  view  thy  son, 
A  holy  harper  'mid  the  shining  ones, 
Who  in  that  land  lit  by  the  smile  of  God, 
Unceasingly  their  notes  of  praise  do  sing, 
While  Jesus  our  Eedeemer  sweetly  smiles. 

With  Faith's  bright  eye,  methinks  thou'lt  view  him, 

there ; 

Yet  a  heart  like  thine — so  full  of  sympathy, 
I  know  must  deeply  feel  a  loss  so  great : 
And  when  the  spirit  of  a  loved  one  soars 
Up  to  the  world  above,  how  longs  the  soul 
To  fly  away  to  its  eternal  rest. 
But,  sister,  for  the  dwellers  on  this  earth, 
It  seeineth.  to  be  needful  that  awhile 
Thou  from  thy  heavenly  home  shouldst  longer  stay. 
Then  wilt  thou  tune  thy  "  gentle  harp  "  again 
To  songs  of  praise  ? 

Ah !  yes,  I  know  thou  wilt ! 
And  though  some  notes  of  sadness  with  the  strain 
Are  mingled,  to  that  strain  we'll  gladly  list ; 
And  when  thy  harp's  last  note  on  earth  shall  sound, 
And  thou,  our  friend  so  dear,  from  us  shalt  go, 
4 


74  TO  MRS.  L.  II.  SIGOURNEY. 

In  heaven,  methinks,  its  strings  will  stronger  grow, 
And  sweetly  vibrate  at  thy  spirit's  touch, 
"While  with  thee  angels  strike  their  sacred  lyres, 
And  shout  their  lofty  songs  of  glorious  praise. 
And  while  those  fields  Elysian  thou  dost  roam, 
A  garland  of  Affection's  priceless  flowers, 
A  poet  band  will  wreathe  to  deck  thy  grave, 
While  sad  they  list  to  echoings  of  thy  lyre, 
"Which  sometimes  whilst  thou  hadst  a  home  on  earth, 
Spake  sweetly  of  the  bliss  of  Paradise. 

Now  fare  thee  well,  my  gentle,  sorrowing  friend  ! 

May  Jesus'  everlasting  arms  of  love 

Thy  soul  sustain,  till  it  shall  soar  away 

To  that  fair  land  of  bliss,  where  waits  thy  son, 

To  welcome  home  a  friend  to  him  so  dear. 

Then  with  the  glorious  company  that  sings 

For  evermore  around  the  throne  of  God, 

With  him,  the  "early  lost"  and  dearly  loved, 

The  Omniscient  thou  shalt  praise,  and  bless  thy  God, 

That  thy  lost  one  so  soon  went  home  to  heaven. 


THOUGHTS.  75 


ON  VIEWING  THE  PICTURE  OF  THE  SPIRIT  BRIDE  IN 
A  LADY'S  ALBUM. 

How  lonely  all  things  seem  on  this  vain  earth, 
Since  thou  from  me  art  taken,  darling  one ! 
Thou  art  gone !  but  still  thy  spirit  lingers  near  ! 
I  see  the  bright  halo  which  round  thee  shines, 
I  gaze  on  the  dark  eye  which  rests  on  me, 
I  hear  the  whisper  of  my  Ella  now, 
As  I've  oft  heard  it  when  she  loved  me  here. 

"Why  do  I  seem  to  gaze  on  thee,  my  love, 
"When  "  holy  night"  o'er  earth  her  mantle  throws, 
And  earthly  sounds  are  hushed  to  quietness  ? 
Ah  1  then  I  seem  to  grasp  thy  hand  once  more, 
For  then  my  Ella  comes  from  the  spirit  land. 
I  sleep,  and  dream  awhile — then  sweetly  wake, 
For  then  it  seems  she's  whispered  in  my  ear, 
Or  gently  kissed  my  lips  to  bid  me  wake. 


76  THOUGHTS. 

0  Father  I  'neath  life's  pressure  bear  me  up, 
Till  what  now  evil'seems,  shall  grieve  no  more ; 
Oh!  then  may  Love's  bright  birth-place  be  3 

home! 

Where  Ella  dwells  may  I  then  find  repose, 
And  joyfully  with  her  tune  the  sweet  lyre, 
To  praise  our  blest  Kedeemer,  King  of  heaven. 


LINES.  77 


"THE  WORLD  OF  SPIRITS  is  THE  POET'S  HOME." 

THERE  is  a  deeper  grief  than  words  can  speak : 
But  should  such  grief  be  mine,  I  still  will  on, 
For  'neath  the  shadow  of  my  Saviour's  wing 
I  rest  secure,  and  angel  bands  surround  me. 
Their  holy  influence  is  on  my  soul — 
I  seem  to  feel  the  fanning  of  their  wings, 
And  listen  to  their  ever-blissful  songs, 
Inviting  me  from  earthly  joys  away. 

The  whisperings  of  these  angel  visitants 
Do  oft  my  strength  renew  for  duties  here, 
Brewhile  they  tell  me  of  the  glorious  bliss 
Within  the  holy  mansions  of  the  skies, 
Where  comes  no  night,  nor  sun  is  needed  there, 
But  'neath  the  ever-radiant  smile  of  God, 
Ten  thousand  tunes  ten  thousand  worshipers, 


78  LINES. 

With  joys  forever  new,  glad  songs  of  praise 
Through  all  eternity  shall  joyous  raise. 

While  up,  and  higher  up  my  spirit  flies, 
My  swelling  heart  is  beating  quick  with  joy. 
So  sweet,  so  holy  fall  those  angel  notes 
Upon  my  glad,  enraptured,  wondering  ear, 
It  seems  'tis  heaven's  own  music  now  I  hear. 
I  long  to  rise  with  those  sweet  worshipers, 
And  on  their  waving  wings,  my  soul  seems  borne 
Almost  up  to  the  eternal  gates  of  heaven. 

Bright  angels  seem  to  come,  with  snowy  wing 
To  fan  my  fevered  brow  at  noon  of  night, 
And  every  earthly  grief  dissolves  in  bliss  so  great ; 
For  I  seem  to  feel  the  pressure  of  the  lips 
Of  loved  ones  gone  upon  my  burning  cheek, 
My  Saviour's  hand  seems  laid  beneath  my  head, 
His  promises  are  whispered  to  my  soul, 
And  oh !  a  bliss  almost  too  great  for  earth, 
Amid  my  griefs  is  mine. 


"  BRETHREN,  PRAY   FOR   US."  79 


4t 


,  frag,  for 


WHEN  strong  temptations  in  our  path 
The  seeds  of  sin  are  sowing, 

That  we  have  grace  the  road  to  shun 
Where  its  vile  weeds  are  growing, 
O  brethren !  pray  for  us. 

When  sickness  doth  its  sorrow  bring, 
And  death  our  joys  is  knelling ; 

When  we're  of  kindest  friends  bereft, 
And  grief  our  hearts  is  swelling, 
Kind  brethren,  pray  for  us. 

And  when  prosperity  most  sweet 

Twines  garlands  that  we  love  to  wear, 

In  mercy  then,  lest  we  heaven's  joys 
Forget,  nor  seek  a  portion  there, 
O  brethren  I  pray  for  us. 


80  "BRETHREN,  PRAY  FOR  us." 

"When  winds  of  popular  applause 
Our  prosperous  sails  are  filling, 

Or  when  a  false  and  fickle  world 
Their  canvas  broad  is  furling, 

Kind  brethren,  pray  for  us. 

When  sorrow  round  our  aching  hearts 
Her  cypress  wreath  is  twining, 

Or  when  the  sweetest  joys  of  earth 
Are  on  our  pathway  shining, 

Dear  brethren,  pray  for  us. 

When  dearest  friends  in  anxious  love 
Around  our  beds  are  sighing ; 

When  holy  angels  from  the  skies, 
Wait  for  us  when  we're  dying, 
0  brethren !  pray  for  us. 


TO  MRS.  ,  ON  HER  CHILDREN'S  DEATH.   81 


€0  D9ta.  — ,  mi  \ix  Cjplftra's 


"  THE  path,  of  sorrow,  and  that  path  alone, 
Leads  to  the  land  where  sorrow  is  unknown." 


A  MOTHER'S  heart  is  listening  to  a  solemn  knell, 
While  o'er  her  precious  jewels  sounds  the  passing 

bell; 

For  twice  amid  the  little  circle  of  her  home, 
Relentless  Death  his  never-failing  dart  hath  thrown — 
Yea,  twice  from  infant  lips  was  heard  the  dying 

moan, 
And  twice  the  angel  bands  have  whispered :  "  Spirit, 

come.' 


n 


The  caskets  which  your  jewels  held  are  broken  I 
But  where  no  moth  doth  eat,  nor  rust  corrode, 
Bright  shining  in  your  Saviour's  diadem, 
Behold  them  in  God's  ever-blest  abode. 
4* 


82      TO  MRS.  ,  ON  HER  CHILDREN'S  DEATH. 

Some  heed  it  lightly  when  an  infant  dies, 
Nor  shed  a  tear  when  its  spirit  homeward  flies, 
Nor  can  they  guess  the  little  helpless  one, 
To  the  fond  heart  was  bound  with  ties  so  strong. 

But  I  a  sister  had,  whose  smiles  so  bright, 
Oft  filled  my  soul  with  ever-new  delight ! 
She  died — in  the  still  grave  they  laid  her  down, 
And  wintry  winds  low  sighed  her  requiem. 

A  bright  chain  binds  me  to  the  world  above — 
My  sweet,  my  gentle  angel-sister's  love ! 
In  nightly  visions  watching  oft  o'er  me, 
Crowned  with  the  golden  honors  of  the  sky, 
She  seems  to  stoop,  and  fold  her  spirit's  wing ; 
I  seem  to  hear  her  infant  voice  again, 
And  feel  whene'er  from  such  glad  dreams  I  waken, 
That  "  'tis  sweet  to  be  loved  by  one  in  heaven." 

At  her  loss  I  felt  a  sister's  agony ! 

Then  forgive,  I  pray,  a  stranger's  feeble  lay, 

"Who  would  fain  to  thee  some  healing  cordial  send — 

Who  would  point  thee  to  thy  Saviour  as  thy  Friend. 


TO  MRS.  ,  ON  HER  CHILDREN'S  DEATH.   83 

When  I  heard  that  thy  little  ones  were  dead, 

Entranced  in  thought,  my  Saviour  I  beheld, 

Descending  from  his  lofty  throne  of  bliss, 

And  heard  the  wondering  multitude  inquire, 

"  Saviour  divine,  what  means  this  stroke  of  thine?" 

With  eye  lit  with  the  radiance  of  love, 

And  voice  like  music  of  the  skies,  he  answered : 

"  The  careless  throng  doth  heedless  pass  along, 

And  deeply  drink  at  pleasure's  sparkling  cup ; 

But  know,  their  latter  end  is  bitter  woe  : 

But  they  who  seek  my  name  to  glorify, 

Oft  at  the  chalice  of  affliction  drink, 

And  oft  in  sorrow's  crucible  are  tried, 

Till  from  all  dross  of  sin  they're  purified — 

Then  to  my  home  of  bliss  receive  I  them." 

Then  turning  to  the  gathered  multitude, 

With  hand  and  eye  upraised  toward  heaven,  he  cried : 

"  Parents,  behold  your  children  angels  now. 

"  Ye  deemed  it  hard  with  those  loved  ones  to  part ; 
But  the  sweet  harp  of  heaven  to  Mary  given, 
Shall  sound  my  praise  in  my  celestial  home, 
And  your  little  son  shall  sing  with  the  bright  throng 
Of  happy  spirits  which  surrounds  my  throne. 


84     TO  MRS.  ,  ON  HER  CHILDREN'S  DEATH. 

"  Those  plants  the  frosts  of  death  so  early  nipped, 
Were  upward  borne  to  bloom  in  heavenly  bowers ; 
For  your  Kedeemer  there  had  need  of  them. 
Then  grieve  not  for  the  dead  who  love  you  still ! 
Will  ye  not  trust  them  to  your  Father's  care, 
And  your  affections  set  on  things  above, 
Faithfully  labor  here,  and  patient  wait 
Till  I  shall  call  you  to  the  land  of  love? 

"  Then  ye  will  learn  the  omniscience  of  your  God— 
The  music  of  your  lyres  with  theirg  shall  blend, 
While  in  sweet  anthems  of  the  skies  ye  join, 
And  bless  the  hand  which  wounded  you  in  love." 

He  ceased  to  speak,  and  then  I  bowed  my  head, 
And  seemed  to  catch  some  of  those  notes  of  joy 
Which  ceaseless  flow  from  sacred  lutes  of  heaven. 
Oh !  then,  if  such  enrapturing  joys  are  theirs, 
Why  mourn  ye  for  the  blest — the  "  early  dead  "? 


GOOD  NIGHT.  85 


(4 


(Sooir 


GOOD  NIGHT!  what  cheerful  words, 
When  lisped  by  prattling  infancy, 

When  tiny  arms  twine  round 

The  necks  of  loved  ones  joyfully. 

When  kisses  and  sweet  smiles, 
By  little  ones  and  those  they  love, 

Each  evening  are  exchanged, 
And  prayer  is  breathed  to  "  God  above." 

Good  night !  what  pleasant  words, 

By  Love  or  by  sweet  Friendship  spoken, 

When  hearts  are  warm  and  light, 

And  Hope's  bright  garlands  are  unbroken. 

Good  night !  'tis  sweetly  borne 
From  lips  of  friends  far,  far  away, 

And  caught  by  Fancy's  ear 

At  the  close  of  some  mila  summer  day. 


86  GOOD  NIGHT. 

When  a  balmy  breeze  is  blowing, 

"When  o'er  us  sweetest  memories  steal, 

The  heart  from  sadness  wooing, 
With  gentle  and  with  glad  appeal. 

Good  night  I  'tis  sadly  breathed 

Within  the  captive's  lonely  cell, 
For  his  lone  bosom  heaves 

That  this  is  Friendship's  parting  knell. 

Oh  !  'tis  a  holy  word, 

When  Love  breathes  forth  its  last  "  Good 

night," 
And  fond  hearts  sadly  watch 

Until  the  spirit  takes  its  flight. 

When  end  my  days  on  earth, 

And  I  shall  speak  my  last  "Good  night," 
Oh !  may  my  spirit  rise 

To  yonder  realms  of  endless  light : 

To  the  land  so  wondrous  fair, 
Whose  glories  are  so  passing  bright ; 

Where  all  is  life  and  joy, 

And  dearest  friends  ne'er  say,  "Good  night." 


GOOD  NIGHT.  87 

No  sleep  for  rest  from  care, 

Nor  sleep  that  makes  the  spirit  light, 
Nor  sleep  of  death  is  there — 

Oh !  all  is  bliss,  where  there  is  no  night. 


88  TO   MRS.  M.  A.  S.  B. 


C0 


OF  Summer's  beauteous  flowers 
A  wreath  I've  twined  for  thee, 

And  hope  in  heavenly  bowers 
Thou'lt  spend  eternity. 

A  wreath  of  Love's  fair  flowers 
In  that  bright  world  be  thine, 

When  thou  the  happy  hours 
Shalt  spend  in  heaven's  pure  clime. 

And  may  Affection's  hand 

A  garland  oft  entwine, 
Afresh  to  deck  thy  tomb, 

While  thine  are  joys  sublime. 


THANKSGIVING  DAY.  89 


anus 


PRAY  what's  the  matter  now,  that  such  a  stir 

Is  being  made  from  Maine  to  Florida, 

And  from  Atlantic  to  Pacific  sea  ? 

Ah !  me,  how  many  turkeys  lose  their  heads ! 

How  many  chicken-pies  must  soon  be  made ! 

How  many  pounds  of  raisins  and  of  rice, 

Of  sugar,  spice  and  butter,  merchants  sell  1 

How  many  invitations  are  sent  forth, 

To  absent  brothers  and  to  sisters  dear — 

To  fathers,  mothers,  sons  and  daughters  too — 

To  Grandpa's  pets,  and  Grandma's  darling  loves, 

To  gather  round  the  social  hearth  and  board, 

To  share  the  honors  of  a  festal  day  1 

Pray  would  you  know  the  reason?  I  will  tell  you. 
'Tis  said  from  twenty  governors'  hands,  or  more, 
A  proclamation  to  the  people  flies, 


90  THANKSGIVING  DAY. 

That  on  a  certain  day  of  this  glad  month, 

They  keep  with  joy  and  praise  Thanksgiving  day ! 

And  many  hands  grow  strong  and  swift, 

And  hearts  grow  light,  anticipating  joy, 

And  children  clap  their  hands,  and  merry  shout, 

And  wonder  which  will  be  the  very  first 

To  print  a  loving  kiss  on  Grandpa's  cheek, 

Or  to  behold  with  joy,  dear  Grandma's  smile. 

I  like  this  ancient,  honored  custom  much, 
Which  brings  together  friends  of  long  ago  ; 
When  old  associations  are  brought  up, 
And  kindly  smiles  exchanged  so  happily  ; 
When  'neath  the  "  spreading  elm  "  or  apple  tree, 
Brothers  and  sisters  with  their  parents  meet, 
And  talk  of  how  they  here  their  play-house  built, 
And  there  "  the  golden  fruits  of  Autumn"  plucked, 
While  their  own  children  sport  beneath  those  trees, 
From  which  the  frost  hath  stripped  the  verdure 

bright, 

Or  warm  their  little  hands  at  Grandpa's  fire, 
While  at  the  loaded  tables  oft  they  cast 
Such  anxious  looks,  as  tempt  a  merry  smile. 


THANKSGIVING  DAY.  91 

But  stop  !  amid  my  mirth,  my  fancy  views 
My  native  home,  six  hundred  miles  away ! 
A  white-haired  man  of  more  than  eighty  years, 
Who  striveth  to  be  glad,  for  others'  sakes, 
Hath  kindly  gathered  round  his  ample  board, 
His  sons  and  daughters,  with  their  little  ones ; 
And  merry  children's  feet,  with  bounding  joy, 
Are  sporting  in  my  Grandsire's  mansion  there : 
But  yet  a  sadness  sweepeth  through  his  soul ! 
For  she — the  loved  companion  of  his  youth, 
Who   toiled   with   him  —  his  joys   and  sorrows 

shared — 

And  true  to  him,  for  more  than  sixty  years 
Eejoiced  in  his  kind  smile,  and  smiles  returned, 
Is  sleeping,  and  will  wake  no  more  on  earth  ; 
And  though  the  death-sleep  on  her  eyelids  fell 
Full  two  years  since,  Love  brings  her  image  up 
On  this  Thanksgiving  day. 

Though  round  his  hearth, 
His  children  and  his  grandchildren  have  met, 
I  seem  to  hear  lym  sigh,  and  see  the  tear 
Upon  his  furrowed  cheek — for  well  I  know, 
That  naught  on  earth,  the  void  within  his  heart, 
Which  by  her  absence  hath  been  made,  can  fill. 


02  THANKSGIVING  DAY. 

Though   children  with  their  children  strive   to 

please, 

He  feels  he  stands  alone,  and  "  waits  for  death, 
As  for  a  friend."    May  God  sustain  him  now! 
Ah !  me,  my  thoughts  are  tempting  me  to  tears, 
And  I  must  cease  to  write ;  yet  ere  I  cease, 
Oh  I  let  me  here  entreat  that  many  thanks 
From  many  hearts,  on  this  glad,  festive  day, 
May  rise  to  God,  who  hath  such  blessings  given — 
Who  kindly  grants  that  round  so  many  hearths, 
No  vacant  seat  is  found  Thanksgiving  day. 

Nov.  1851. 


THANKSGIVING  HYMN.  93 


1  WHAT  shall  we  render  to  the  Lord, 

For  all  the  mercies  of  the  year  ? 
Oh !  let  us  in  his  temple  laud 
His  holy  name  with  grateful  fear. 

2  Oh !  let  the  nation  bring  to  Gk>d 

A  noble  sacrifice  to-day ! 
Oh !  let  us  sound  his  fame  abroad, 
And  cheerful  sing  a  grateful  lay. 

8      Yea,  let  the  song  of  joy  arise, 

And  let  the  pealing  anthem  ring ! 
To  Heaven  we'll  raise  our  hearts  and  eyes, 
And  joyfully  we'll  praise  our  King. 

4      For  so  our  good  forefathers  knelt 

Around  their  altars  free  yet  rude, 
When  their  o'erflowing  hearts  did  melt 
In  holy,  humble  gratitude 


94  THANKSGIVING  HYMN. 

5  To  Him  -who  to  their  scanty  store, 

In  time  of  hunger  and  of  need, 
Had  brought  from  a  far-distant  shore, 
For  their  high  faith,  a  welcome  meed. 

6  In  Heaven  they  put  their  trust,  when  roared 

The  tempest  wild  around  their  heads ; 
Their  prayers  on  Faith's  strong  wing  then  soared 
High  up,  before  the  throne  of  God. 

7  God  heard — and  then  glad  thanks  they  poured ! 
,       And  when  our  friends  we  kindly  greet, 

Or  when  around  the  festive  board, 
In  joyous  companies  we  meet ; 

8  Of  the  example  they  have  given 

"We'll  think,  and  pour  a  happy  lay ; 
Yea,  like  the  angels  of  high  heaven, 
"We'll  sing  on  this  Thanksgiving  day. 


95 


C0.    rote. 


LOUISA,  I  have  turned  thine  album  o'er 

To  read  what  other  hands  for  thee  have  written : 

I've  searched  for  thoughts — what  can  I  write  thee 

more? 
What  friendly  wish  that  not  to  thee  is  given  ? 

They've  called  thee  lovely,  good,  and  fair ; 

They've  promised  for  thee  friendship  true  ; 
They've  wished  for  thee  freedom  from  care, 

And  a  home  where  joy  blooms  ever  new. 

/  wish  that  Friendship  weave  for  thee 
A  wreath  of  amaranthine  flowers — 

A  wreath  that  shall  unfading  be, 

When  thou  shalt  dwell  in  heavenly  bowers. 

And  yet  another  wish  is  mine : 

That  thou  a  glorious  crown  mayst  wear ; 

And  may  an  angel's  lyre  be  thine, 
In  a  celestial  land,  and  fair. 


MARY  ELIZABETH  KNOWLTON. 


DAUGHTER  OF  WM.  A.  AND  ELIZABETH  KNOWLTON, 

DIED  AUG.  24TII,  1851,  AGED  4  MONTHS  AND  19  DAYS. 

SWEET  babe !  and  hast  thou  gone  from  us  for  aye  ? 
And  can  thy  beauteous  eye,  so  darkly  blue, 
That  gazed  into. our  own  confidingly, 
Gaze  thus,  our  hearts  to  gladden  nevermore  ? 
And  may  we  see  thy  gentle  smile  no  more, 
Nor  anxious  watch  beside  thy  little  couch  ? 

I  watched  thy  little  brow  so  knit  with  pain, 
Yet  marked  the  patient  smile  around  thy  lip, 
And  could  but  fancy  angels  sang  to  thee, 
And  'mid  thy  pain,  thy  spirit  lulled  to  rest : 
And  then  I  almost  bent  my  ear  to  list, 
If  I  perchance  their  holy  songs  might  hear. 

I  saw  thy  little  face  with  suffering  pale, 
And  feared  that  thou  from  us,  soon,  soon,  must  go ; 


MAKY  ELIZABETH   KNOWLTON.  97 

v 

And  oil  I  I  questioned  much  why  one  so  young 
And  innocent,  must  suffer  and  must  die  ; 
And  then  the  spirit  of  a  babe  like  thee, 
Seemed  flying  from  before  the  Eternal's  throne, 
To  whisper  to  my  listening  spirit's  ear, 
Of  highest  bliss,  shared  by  the  sweetest  band 
Of  all  the  glittering  hosts  of  the  redeemed — 
The  little  lambs  of  the  Eedeemer's  flock, 
Which  through  the  pastures  of  His  love  he  leads, 
And  ever  cares  for  them  most  tenderly. 

I  seemed  to  hearken  to  an  infant  choir, 
Whose  voices,  soft  and  sweet  were  heard  with  joy, 
By  angel  bands  that  long  before  God's  throne 
Had  day  and  night  His  praise  enraptured  sung ! 

I  seemed  to  listen  to  their  little  harps 
Of  purest  gold,  so  sweetly  strung  in  heaven ; 
And  then  I  thought  it  must  be  sweet  to  die, 
TZre  the  young  spirit  knows  the  blight  of  care, 
Or  Sorrow  feels,  or  Disappointment's  sting, 
And  ere  the  tongue  earth's  dialect  can  speak, 
To  be  by  angels  taught  to  sing  in  heaven. 

Dear  babe,  although  we  grieve  to  part  with  thee, 
Thy  spirit's  flight  hath  formed  a  golden  link, 
To  bind  the  hearts  that  held  thee  dear,  to  heaven. 


98  MARY   ELIZABETH   KNOWL1OX. 


Ah !  when  I  closed  thy  little  eyes  so  blue, 
And  robed  thy  tiny  form,  e'en  for  the  tomb, 
I  felt  I  scarce  could  grieve  that  thou  wert  gone ; 
Yet  'twill  be  hard  to  hear  the  cold  earth  fall 
Upon  thy  coffin's  lid,  and  feel  that  thou 
With  gentle  smile  wilt  glad  our  hearts  no  more. 

But  thou,  young  mother,  at  thine  infant's  side, 
And  father,  bending  o'er  that  loved  one's  form, 
Look  up !  Can  see  your  little  darling  one, 
Lying  with  folded  hands,  and  gazing  up, 
As  she  was  wont  to  gaze  at  earthly  trees, 
Into  the  ever- verdant  tree  of  life, 
While  its  fair  branches  o'er  her  peaceful  wave, 
And  cherub  watchers  o'er  her  bend,  to  teach 
Her  infant  soul  the  joyous  notes  of  Heaven  ! 

Ah !  say  not  that  in  vain  that  loved  one  lived, 
Since  she,  with  angel  harp,  and  heaven-tuned  voice, 
In  Paradise  may  sing  eternally. 


FANCY'S  WEEATH.  99 


INSCRIBED  TO  SISTER  MARY. 

[SHOULD  any  friend  or  stranger  inquire  my  reasons  for  placing  these 
flowers,  and  these  only  in  my  wreath,  I  would  answer :  "  Were  I  to 
twine  a  wreath  of  the  flowers  of  my  garden  for  the  brow  of  a  friend, 
I  would  not  consider  myself  bound  to  place  in  that  wreath  every 
species  of  flower  which  grows  there ;  but  would  select  the  unfading 
amaranth,  the  myrtle,  the  delicate  but  fragrant  lily  of  the  valley,  and 
other  flowers  of  delicacy,  fragrance,  and  beauty.  Such  flowers  and 
such  alone,  should  compose  my  wreath :  for  the  brilliant  dahlia,  the 
pride  of  the  garden,  the  gaudy  tulip,  and  many  other  flowers  which, 
in  the  garden,  or  in  a  bouquet  for  a  mantel,  would  shine  with  superior 
grace,  would  make  but  an  unsightly  appearance  in  a  chaplet  woven 
by  friendship's  hand,  to  twine  around  the  temples  of  a  beloved 
friend.] 

A  FAIRY  garland  once  I  thought  to  weave, 
More  beauteous  far  than  queenly  diadem, 
Of  flowers  of  delicate  hue  and  odors  sweet, 
With  care  culled  from  the  garden  of  the  mind, 


100  FANCY'S  WREATH. 

And  twined  with  golden  thread  most  delicate. 
Memory  was  the  first  flower  I  laid  thereon : 
'Twas  of  vermilion  hue,  and  tinged  with  white, 
And  as  I  gently  pressed  my  thread  around  it, 
It  raised  its  beauteous  head,  and  sweetly  smiled, 
Whispering :  "I  know  thou  long  wilt  cherish  me." 
Just  then  a  troop  of  glad  remembrances 
Of  days  past  long  ago  came  sweeping  by : 
"  O  Memory  !"  I  replied,  "  thine  odors  sweet 
And  colors  bright,  much  prized  shall  ever  be, 
And  oftentimes  in  hours  of  solitude, 
Shall  thy  perfumes  most  rich  my  heart  enliven." 

Imagination  then  my  golden  thread 
Encircled.     It  was  from  a  slender  plant, 
With  a  most  richly  variegated  flower, 
Yet  with  a  stem  so  very  slight  and  fragile 
That  as  around  it  my  bright  thread  I  pressed 
I  almost  feared  the  floweret  fair  would  break : 
Then  Faith,  a  flower  of  bright  cerulean  hue, 
And  lined  with  lighter  shades — of  cup-like  form, 
So  nicely  wrought,  it  seemed  a  brilliant  eye, 
Up-gazing  ever  towards  its  native  heaven : 


FANCY'S  WREATH.  101 

And  Hope,  whose  healing  leaves  the  heart's  deep 

griefs 

Assuage,  with  flowers  of  petals  bright  as  gold, 
And  fadeless  too  as  joys  of  Paradise : 
And  Charity  with  flower  of  curious  form, 
From  plant  as  spreading  as  the  banian  tree, 
That  droops  its  pendent  branches  to  the  ground, 
And,  striking  root,  forms  a  vast  wilderness, 
And  from  the  rude  storm  shelters  many  heads — 
"Were  gently  plucked  my  garland  to  adorn. 
Friendship,  a  cluster  bright,  whose  fragrance  rich, 
Seemed  borne  from  dewy  hills  of  Lebanon, 
And  Love,  a  jewel-drop  of  drooping  head, 
And  color  of  a  beauteous  blushing  rose, 
Came  next.    My  wreath  was  twined — my  thread  all 

worked, 

And  naught  remained  my  garland  to  complete, 
Except  with  care  so  nice  its  ends  to  join, 
No  keenly-searching  gazer  e'er  might  guess  < 

Which  flower  was  first,  or  which  was  last  entwined. 
A  stem  of  Memory  and  one  of  Love 
Together  then  I  twined :  my  wreath  was  done, 
And  queens  might  wish  to  lay  their  pearls  aside, 
And  place  my  priceless  garland  on  their  heads. 


102  FANCY'S  WREATH. 

Autumnal  frosts  have  come,  my  sister  dear, 
And  I  no  flowers  from  Flora's  bright  domain, 
May  now  into  a  garland  wreathe  for  thee ; 
So  I  a  sort  of  Fancy's  garland  send, 
And  hope  when  earthly  cares  with  us  are  o'er 
The  sweet  unwithering  blossoms  of  the  sky, 
In  heavenly  bowers  we  may  together  twine. 

O  Sister !  'neath  the  glowing  skies  of  heaven, 
Will  it  not  be  sweet  to  dwell  for  evermore  ? 
This  vesture  of  mortality  laid  by, 
And  clad  in  robes  such  as  immortals  wear, 
Where  never  wearied,  though  for  aye  employed, 
'Neath  heaven's  bright  banner  of  eternal  love, 
Angels  with  spirits  of  the  just  commune, 
And  pluck  the  amaranthine  flowers  of  bliss, 
Which  bloom  beside  the  crystal  stream  of  heaven  ? 


ON  THE   GIFT  OF  A  MOSS   ROSE.  103 


Ca 


ON  THE  GIFT  OF   A  MOSS   ROSE  IN  DECEMBER. 

THE  little  rose  from  thee,  my  stranger-friend, 
Which  came  so  late,  when  other  flowers  had  flown, 
And  Autumn's  winds  had  sung  their  requiem, 
Tells  me  of  those  that  bloom  in  that  bright  land, 
Where  no  tempestuous  winds  may  ever  blow, 
Its  fair,  and  never-  withering  flowers  to  chill. 
It  speaks  of  Friendship's  ever-fragrant  flowers, 
Which  on  the  margin  of  heaven's  crystal  sea 
Bloom  fadelesly  throughout  eternity  : 
No  petal  from  affection's  beauteous  rose 
E'er  falls  or  withers  on  that  holy  shore, 
But  blooms  it  there  most  sweet,  and  wondrous  fair, 
For  all  who  dwell  within  the  bowers  above. 

With  flowers  may  life's  pathway  be  strewed  for  thee, 
And  when  thy  spirit  from  its  clay  is  riven, 


104  SECRET  GRIEF. 

On  joyous  wing  may  it  rise  up  to  heaven, 
And  on  the  glorious  banks  of  that  pure  sea, 
Pluck  fairest  flowers  of  bliss  eternally. 

Jan.  18,  1850. 


Secret  (Srief. 

"  WE  thank  thee  for  the  pulse  of  joy — 

For  hearts  of  hope — for  flying  fears ; 
We'll  not  forget,  in  every  prayer, 
To  bless  thee  for  tlie  gift  of  tears  I" 

"  I  know  not  why,  I  could  not  weep. 
The  blessed  drops  refused  to  roll ; 
But  oh  1  that  grief  is  wild  and  deep, 
That  settles  tearless  on  the  soul." 

No  grief's  so  deep  as  that  which  must  be  locked 
Within  the  bosom  of  the  grieving,  lest 
Like  a  cold  weight,  back,  back  upon  the  heart 
It  should  be  thrown,  by  those  who  can  not  feel, 
Because  they  have  not  suffered  thus,  or — worse — 


SECRET  GRIEF.  105 

Because  they  have  no  heart  to  sympathize ; 

But  like  the  would-be  comforters  of  Job, 

Will  turn  to  curse  the  afflicted  for  his  grief. 

"When  grief  the  heart's  o'erflowing  depths  doth  stir, 

How  sinks  unkindness  like  a  leaden  weight, 

And  deeper,  deeper  fills  the  troubled  pool  1 

Perchance  in  silence  it  doth  overflow, 

Its  staine'd  waters  only  visible 

To  His  omniscient  eye  that  doth  behold 

The  sparrow's  fall,  and  numbers  all  our  woes ; 

But  yet  that  load  is  sinking,  sinking  down, 

Nor  can  the  doubly  burdened  heart  gam  strength 

To  cast  it  off;  but  as  a  ponderous  stone, 

By  dint  of  all  our  strength  rolled  up  a  hill, 

Eolls  down  again  soon  as  the  arms  relax, 

While  each  repeated  effort  doth  decrease 

The  power  to  lift  it  higher  than  before, 

Until  the  wearied  muscles  all  give  way, 

And  with  accelerated  force  it  sweeps 

Along,  and  crushes,  crushes  out  the  life ; 

So  mortals  sometimes  try  full  oft  in  vain 

To  roll  their  griefs  aside — still  on  the  heart 

The  heavy  burden  lies,  and  crushes  it, 

Unless  the  Almighty's  hand  the  load  remove.  ' 
5* 


106  SECRET  GRIEF. 

I  had  a  friend,  nor  need  I  tell  you  who, 
Whose  fading  eye  and  wasting  form  I  marked ; 
I  knew  her  heart  with  sorest  grief  oppressed, 
Oft  to  the  Heavenly  Healer  rose  for  aid ; 
Her  soul  with  all  its  strength  looked  up  to  God ; 
She  strove  to  cast  her  griefs  aside :  but  yet 
Full  well  I  understood  her  spirit's  wing 
"Would  soon  unfurl  in  an  immortal  clime. 

A  few  brief  weeks  and  sad  she  lingered  on, 

Then  near  the  sunset  hour  they  closed  her  eyes — 

Peace  o'er  her  countenance  its  halo  shed. 

While  weeping  friends  stood  round  that  form  so  cold, 

I  almost  heard  her  song  of  victory, 

And  heard  the  flitting  of  a  spirit's  wing 

As  it  arose,  by  angel  bands  attended, 

To  drink  draughts  of  illimitable  bliss, 

Which  flow  from  the  deep  fount  of  Jesus'  love 

Beneath  the  ever-glorious  skies  of  heaven. 

The  heart  that  mourns  the  ties  of  Friendship  broken, 
The  heart  that  is  with  deepest  anguish  riven, 
Should  turn  to  seek  the  changeless  love  of  Heaven  ! 
But  there  is  grief  so  deep,  the  strongest  faith 


SECRET   GRIEF.  107 

Can  not  quite  overcome — yet  while  the  soul 
Looks  up,  and  tastes  of  manna  from  the  skies, 
Faith,  like  a  heavenly  anodyne,  doth  soothe, 
And  though  a  poisoned  arrow  doth  transfix 
The  heart,  faith  makes  it  more  gently  sink  to  rest, 
To  wake  upon  a  tender  Saviour's  breast — 
To  wake  amid  that  holy  shining  throng 
Whose  harps  forever  sound  the  notes  of  joy, 
Whose  bliss  like  a  deep  stream  forever  Hows, 
Unsullied  by  corroding  cares  and  woes. 


108  EPITAPH. 


SWEETLY  rose  the  voice  of  praise  from  dying  lips, 

Peacefully  passed  the  spirit  o'er  Death's  tide ; 
Now  from  heaven's  translucent  stream  with  joy  she 

sips 

The  living  waters  which  so  sweetly  glide 
On  from  before  the  golden  throne  of  God, 
While  on  those  peaceful  banks  by  angels  trod, 
The  beauteous  tree  of  life  doth  sweetly  wave, 
O'er  all  who  sing :  "  Our  Jesus  died  to  save." 


LINES.  109 


"  BROTHEB,  though  from  yonder  sky? 
Cometh  neither  voice  nor  cry, 
Yet  we  know  for  thee  to-day 
Every  pain  hath  passed  away." 

BROTHER,  now  this  life  is  drear, 
Yet  I  would  not  wish  thee  here  ; 
Far  from  joys  of  heaven's  bright  day, 
Where  thy  pains  have  passed  away. 

Brother,  now  I  see  thy  smile, 

And  I  hear  thy  voice  the  while, 

And  rejoice  that  thou  art  there, 

Where  thy  soul  heaven's  bliss  may  share. 

Brother,  oft  thy  love  shall  cheer 
My  sad  spirit  while  I'm  here ; 
Brother,  soon  again  we'll  meet. 
To  rejoice  at  Jesus'  feet. 


110  LINES. 

Brother,  till  I  meet  thee  there, 
Oft  I'll  think  of  thee  'mid  care ; 
Brother,  wilt  thou  tell  me  then, 
Dost  thou  think  of  me  in  heaven  ? 

Brother,  yes,  I  feel  thou  dost, 
E'en  while  'mid  the  heavenly  host, 
Thy  enraptured  song  doth  swell, 
Where  the  loved  ne'er  say,  "  Farewell." 


A  FAKEWELL  TO  1849,  1850,  AND  1851.   Ill 


to  1U9,  W5U,  unit  1851. 


WHILE  on  my  couch  of  suffering  I  recline, 
Bring  me  a  light  —  my  thoughts  are  striving  now, 
A  farewell  for  a  dying  year  to  write  ; 
So  hither  bring  a  light,  and  let  me  write. 

Farewell  now,  EIGHTEEN  HUNDRED  FORTY-NINE  ! 
Farewell  with  all  thy  joys  and  all  thy  woes  ! 
To  the  tomb  of  the  past  thou'rt  sinking  fast, 
And  soon  young  Eighteen  Hundred  Fifty  will 
With  buoyant  step  be  dancing  round  thy  bier, 
And  lightly  heed  that  numbered  are  her  days, 
And  that,  like  thee,  she  soon  will  dying  be. 

But  we  will  not  forget  thee,  aged  year  I 

No  when  with  all  thy  joys  and  griefs  thou'rt  gone, 

And  by  the  side  of  older  years  thou'rt  laid 

In  the  great  churchyard  of  the  "  mighty  past," 

We'll  think  of  thee,  and  of  the  valued  links 


112  A  FAREWELL  TO  1849. 

Which  have  been  wrought  in  Friendship's  golden 

chain, 

Since  thou,  thine  ever-changeful  reign  commenced. 
Affection's  "rosebuds"  which  are  opening  now, 
More  fully  shall  expand  when  thou  art  gone ; 
But  how  those  buds  we  watched  when  thou  wert 

here, 
We'll  not  forget. 

We  would  not,  if  we  could, 
.E'er  sprinkle  Lethean  waters  o'er  thy  grave  I 
In  after  years,  if  Heaven  our  lives  shall  spare, 
Choice  flowers  from  Memory's  gleanings  we  will 

cull— 

Sweet  flowers  which  in  thy  life-tune  we  did  tend. 
For  all  the  joys  thou  hast  brought,  our  God  we 

bless, 

And  though  Affliction's  cup  our  lips  have  pressed, 
Of  sorrows  we  would  not  forgetful  be, 
Lest  we  too  lightly  heed  their  lessons  wise ; 
Nor  e'en  our  sins  would  we  quite  overlook, 
But  when  on  them  we  mournful  meditate, 
In  the  Ark  of  Safety  we  would  hide  our  heads. 


A  FAREWELL  TO   1850.  113 


A  FAREWELL  TO  1850. 

'TwAS  thus  I  wrote,  almost  one  year  ago — • 
Now  Eighteen  Hundred  Fifty  soon  must  die ! 
Ah  hark !  a  dying  groan  I  seem  to  hear  I 
Yes,  aged  year,  thou  soon  art  going  now, 
And  soon  another  year,  with  nimble  feet, 
As  thine  were  in  thy  days  of  joyous  youth, 
Will  come  to  take  thy  place,  while  thou  art  laid 
In  thy  lone  grave,  close  by  thy  brother's  side, 
In  dread  eternity's  vast  burial-place ! 
But  in  our  memories  thou  wilt  be  embalmed ; 
Yes,  dying  year,  we'll  love  to  think  of  thee ; 
And  though  the  youthful  year  some  joys  shall 

bring, 

Full  oft  we'll  trace  the  lines  which  Memory  wrote 
Of  thee,  upon  the  tablets  of  our  heart. 
And  when  the  coming  year  lies  on  its  bier, 
Shall  I  be  here  to  write  its  requiem  ? 


114  A  FAREWELL  TO   1851. 

All !  none  can  tell !  but  in  my  Father's  hand 
I  know  that  I  am  safe  !  and  ask  not  life, 
Nor  fear  I  death — but  from  my  heart  I  say : 
"  My  Heavenly  Father,  let  thy  will  be  done." 


A  FAREWELL  TO  1851. 

THE  year  is  waning,  and  my  harp  I  take, 
And  joyfully  I  strike  its  trembling  strings— 
My  happy  spirit's  banner  high  I  raise : 
While  through  its  sweeping  folds  the  sportive  winds 
Of  thought  are  sighing,  I  fain  would  wake  a  song 
Of  holy  joy  and  humble  gratitude : 
And  sure  'tis  meet  that  I,  to  whom  this  year, 
Numberless  blessings  have  been  given,  should  sing. 
Yet  can  I  tell  of  joys  which  thou  to  me 
Hast  brought  ?  those  joys  more  highly  prized  than 
gold. 

*  The  author's  health  was  partially  restored  in  1851. 


A  FAREWELL  TO   1851.  115 

Mercy  and  goodness  both  as  with  a  crown 
Of  costly  diamonds  and  of  brilliant  pearls, 
Adorn  thy  hoary  head,  thou  dying  year  I 
And  when  the  tomb-stone  of  eternity 
For  evermore  shall  seal  thy  sepulchre, 
The  memory  of  thy  joys,  like  a  fair  wreath, 
That  decks  the  tomb  of  one  the  heart  holds  dear, 
Shall  like  a  garland  seem,  of  fairest  hues, 
Entwined  around  thy  gilded  monument. 


116  WHEN  I  WOULD  DIE. 


to 

6 


WHEN  sets  the  sun  all  gloriously, 
Oh  !  let  me  gaze  with  silent  awe, 
Then  let  my  spirit  upward  fly  — 
Yea,  let  me  gaze,  and  let  me  die. 

And  think  ye  when  with  earth  I've  done, 
That  like  the  slowly  setting  sun 
I  shall  rise,  but  on  a  fairer  morn 
Than  earth's  bright  sun  did  e'er  adorn. 

But  if  to  me  this  boon's  denied, 

To  close  my  eyes  at  eventide  — 

In  Death's  last  sleep  to  close  them  then, 

May  my  spirit  be  departing  when 

The  rising  sun  sends  forth  his  beams, 
And  each  bird  its  matin  singing  seems 
To  sweetly  praise  our  God  above, 
And  softly  chant,  "  Our  God  is  love." 


WHEN  I  WOULD  DIE.  117 

Yet  why  care  I,  though  in  dark  night 
My  spirit  take  its  upward  flight, 
If  Jesus  shall  his  beams  display, 
To  light  my  soul  to  endless  day  ? 

And  when  my  spirit  shall  have  fled, 
And  I  be  numbered  with  the  dead, 
Oh !  think  ye  that  I  sweetly  rest 
In  the  bright  mansions  of  the  blest. 

0  joyous  rest !  from  sin  set  free, 
And  clad  in  robes  of  purity — 
Dread  pain  I  there  shall  never  fear, 
Nor  ever  shed  a  sorrowing  tear. 

So  joyous  rest  that  I  may  share, 
I'll  raise  my  morn  and  evening  prayer ; 
And  should  such  rest  to  me  be  given, 
I'll  raise  my  grateful  song  in  heaven. 


118          SICKNESS,  AND  RETURNING  HEALTH. 


ickness,  aui  Bunting 


Now  on  the  moss-grown  trunk  of  fallen  tree 
I  sit  in  the  delightful  forest  shade, 
To  which  I  oft  in  vain  have  sighed  to  roam, 
And  write  of  joys  of  my  returning  health. 

From  yonder  thicket's  shade,  at  my  approach 

Just  now  the  "  whirring  partridge"  frighted  soared  ; 

Small  birds  are  round  me  singing  notes  of  love, 

And  in  the  distance  too,  a  song  I  hear, 

Which  from  a  happy  warbler's  throat  is  poured  ; 

The  music  of  autumnal  winds  I  list, 

Amid  the  rustling,  frost-seared,  dying  leaves  ; 

And  now  and  then  a  leaf  comes  quivering  down, 

Sighing  :  "Ah  !  short  lived  are  the  joys  of  earth  — 

Then  seek  for  bliss  in  heaven." 

This  solitude 
Is  sweet  —  a  place  for  poet's  musings  meet, 


SICKNESS,  AND   RETURNING   IIEALTH.          119 

And  like  the  happy  birds  I'd  joyous  sing 
My  gracious  Saviour's  praise. 

They  nothing  fear, 

Of  future  ill,  though  tempests  round  them  rage, 
But  sing  of  present  good,  and  seem  to  trust 
The  hand  which  hath  for  them  provided  still ; 
And  thus  to  man  they  teach  Faith's  lessons  sweet : 
And  why  should  not  man  trust  in  the  Supreme  ? 
And  ah  !  why  should  not  7j  who  oft  have  felt 
In  trials  and  in  joys,  His  presence  near  ? 

Ah !  who  may  guess  the  trials  of  the  sick, 
But  they  who  on  the  sufferer's  couch  have  lain  ? 
And  who  may  know  the  fullness  of  Q-od's  love, 
Who  ne'er  have  proved  it  in  adversity  ? 

Oh !  I  have  lain  when  bitter  agony 

Has  wrung  such  drops  of  coldness  from  my  frame, 

That  friends  around  have  thought  I  soon  must  die. 

Yes,  there  I've  lain,  but  just  outside  heaven's  gate, 

While  holy  angels  from  a  seraph  band 

With  sweetest  notes  have  swept  their  golden  lyres, 

And  joyous  notes  have  fallen  on  my  ear, 

Till  I  have  seemed  to  live  a  double  life ; 


120          SICKNESS,  AND  RETURNING  HEALTH. 

For  while  my  pain  wrung  from  my  heart  deep  groans, 
I  drank  large  draughts  of  bliss  so  truly  sweet, 
It  seemed  my  spirit's  wing  was  almost  free  : 
And  while  I  seemed  to  catch  glad  notes  from  lips 
Of  those  who  fly  around  the  Eternal's  throne, 
My  spirit  hath  grown  strong  for  ills  of  life. 

"When  "  He  who  doeth  all  things  well," 

The  bands  of  strong  disease  saw  fit  to  loose. 

Away  from  home,  I  first,  with  bounding  heart, 

Tasted  the  sweets  of  strength  returning ; 

But  soon  a  sister's  bridal  called  me  home ; 

When  on  a  sweet,  delightful  morn  of  June, 

Just  as  the  eastern  sun  the  sky  was  purpling, 

I  rose  and  to  the  forest  shade  I  roved ; 

And  as  I  paused,  as  oft  in  childhood's  hour 

T  paused,  to  listen  to  sweet  Nature's  song, 

Or  from  their  hiding-place,  plucked  wild- wood  flowers, 

My  grateful  heart,  0  God !  was  filled  with  praise  I 

A  few  wild  flowers  I  then  together  tied, 

As  sweet  remembrancers  of  joys  long  lost, 

And  joys  restored. 

O  fair  yet  faded  flowers  I 
Ye  oft  remind  me  of  that  happy  morn, 


SICKNESS,  AND  RETURNING  HEALTH.          121 

When  Hope's  fair,  glittering  pearls  were  twined  for 

me, 
And  Joy  encircled  them  around  my  brow. 

My  old  arm-chair,  'gainst  which  my  aching  head 
In  many  an  hour  of  bitter  pain  hath  leaned, 
Is  laid  aside,  and  yet  I  still  retain  it, 
As  I  would  keep  a  gift  by  some  dead  friend   be 
queathed. 

It  oft  calls  up  associations  sad, 

And  gladsome  thoughts  sometimes  it  doth  recall, 

For  oft  it  speaks  of  gentle  sympathies 

Of  those  I  loved,  who  clasped  my  hands  in  theirs — • 

With  words  and  looks  of  love  my  griefs  assuaged, 

And  sometimes  wished  that  they  might  bear  my 

pain; 

And  while  they  bent  to  kiss  my  fevered  brow, 
My  pains  seemed  less  severe  for  their  kind  love. 

But  joys  with  less  of  grief  I  now  may  share, 
And  those  who  wept  with  me,  may  now  rejoice ; 
For  now,  at  break  of  day,  I  wander  forth, 
To  listen  to  the  matin  song  of  birds, 
That  early  pour  their  glad,  wild  notes  of  praise, 
6 


122         SICKNESS,  AND  EETUENING  HEALTH. 

While  in  "green  aisles"  of  these  "cathedrals  grand," 
Built  by  the  hand  of  God  Omnipotent, 
I  roam  to  nurture  high  and  holy  thought. 

How  sweet  to  watch  the  trembling  of  the  leaves, 
And  swaying  of  the  boughs  of  lofty  forest  trees, 
That  covered  o'er  with  dew-drops  glisten  bright, 
Beneath  the  rays  of « dawning  Phoebus  there ! 

Again,  at  sunset  hour,  in  thoughtful  mood 

I  wander  forth  to  seek  the  wild-wood  shade, 

And  oft,  amid  the  sylvan  solitude 

I  pause  to  raise  my  heart  in  grateful  prayer, 

While  on  a  bright  green  carpet,  Nature's  own, 

I  stand,  where  sweet  wild  flowers  are  blooming  round 

me, 

And  winds  are  whispering  soft,  then  singing  loud, 
With  heaven-like  song  repeating,  "  God  is  good." 

The  rippling  river,  at  the  close  of  day, 

Flows  on,  reflecting  on  its  mirror  bright, 

The  beauteous,  floating  clouds  so  purely  white, 

Reminding  me  of  "skies  that  wear  no  night" — 

Nor  clouds,  methinks,  save  some  most  silvery  bright, 

Which  shed  fresh  beauty  o'er  the  light  of  heaven : 


SICKNESS,  AND  KETUKNING  HEALTH.          123* 

And  then  I  meditate  upon  that  stream, 
Which  from  before  the  Eternal's  throne  flows  on, 
"While  on  its  margin  ever  bloom  Life's  trees, 
Whose  healing  fruits  the  wondering  nations  heal ; 
I  seem  to  hear  the  breath  of  heavenly  gales, 
Amid  the  waving  leaves  of  Paradise, 
And  feel  the  waters  of  heaven's  holy  stream, 
Falling  in  gentle  drops  upon  my  heart. 

O  sweet  refreshing  drops  !  which  healing  bring, 
Washing  away  the  griefs  and  cares  of  earth, 
Even  while  this  fleeting  "life  entombs  the  soul," 
Bidding  the  spirit  rise,  to  taste  of  joys 
Like  those  which  angels  drink  in  bowers  above. 

Oh  !  sweet  it  is,  at  twilight's  holy  hour, 
To  listen  to  the  breath  of  summer  winds, 
All  gently  through  the  lonely  aspens  sighing ! 

While  there  I  sit  in  meditative  mood, 

Those  waving  leaves  the  music  for  my  thoughts, 

How  sweetly  o'er  my  gladdened  memory  steal 

Those  holy  promises  so  dear  to  me, 

Which  oft  like  heavenly  manna  fed  my  heart, 

In  darker  hours,  when  pain  did  torture  me. 


'  124          SICKNESS,  AND  RETURNING  HEALTH. 

While  on  Jehovah's  powerful  arm  relying, 
Hope  and  new  life  enkindle  all  my  soul — 
What  shall  I  render  to  my  God  for  all 
The  benefits  which  He  to  me  hath  shown? 
The  incense  of  glad  praise  shall  daily  rise, 
From  off  the  altar  of  my  grateful  heart — 
His  holy  name  I'll  seek  to  glorify 
While  life  shall  last — and  then — in  Paradise 
I  hope  to  sing  his  praise  eternally. 

1852. 


YONDER  AND   "  UP  YONDER."  125 


JJcnfter. 


WHEN  clouds  are  dark,  and  wild  the  storm  is  raging  — 
When  lightnings  flash,  and  thunders  course  the 

sky, 

And  distant  far  the  beacon's  light  is  gleaming, 
Ah  !  where  is  fixed  the  quailing  mariner's  eye  ? 

Yonder. 

Perchance  the  heaving  ship  is  breakers  nearing, 
And  wildly  swells  the  sea,  and  winds  are  hoarse, 

Yet  like  a  radiant  star,  with  hope  inspiring, 

Beams  forth  the  watch-tower's  light  to  guide  its 

course, 

Yonder. 

The  giant  billows  heave  —  the  bark  is  trembling, 
As  down  the  liquid  hills  it  quickly  glides  ! 

Ah  !  now  'tis  seen  no  more,  and  hope  is  dying  — 
Again  upon  a  mountain  wave  it  rides, 

Yonder. 


126  YONDER  AND    "  UP  YONDER." 

The  night  is  long — the  storm  is  wildly  beating — 

Oh !  would  that  peaceful  calm  might  be  restored ! 
The  morning  comes — the  sun  through  clouds  is 

breaking — 

The  ship  with  its  weary  crew  is  safely  moored — 

Yonder. 

When  clouds  around  the  Christian's  soul  are  gather 
ing, 

And  o'er  his  head  rude  winds  of  sorrow  blow, 
What  radiant  beacon-light  his  soul  is  guiding 
To  the  land  where  troubled  waters  never  flow, 

Up  yonder  ? 

The  Bible  is  the  pharos'  lamp  that's  gleaming 
Upon  his  pathway,  be  it  dark  or  bright, 

And  from  the  Cross  a  glorious  light  is  beaming, 
Like  a  star  to  guide  him  to  the  world  of  light, 

Up  yonder. 

So  when  the  clouds  are  dark,  he  sings  God's  praises  ; 

His  bark  by  Disappointment's  gales  is  blown, 
But  through  the  parting  clouds  he  steadfast  gazes, 

And  sees  a  radiant  rainbow  o'er  the  throne, 

Up  yonder. 


YONDER  AND   "  UP  YONDER."  127 

And  all !  when  hoarse  the  angry  storm  is  howling, 
His  fears  are  quelled,  for  Jesus  whispers, "Peace" — 

The  echoings  of  His  voice  his  soul  are  thrilling, 
While  looks  he  toward  the  shore  where  sorrows 

cease, 

Up  yonder. 

And  so,  when  wearily  the  hours  are  passing, 
All  fraught  with  woe,  he  looks  above  for  light — 

A  glimpse  of  Paradise  his  fear  is  chasing, 
For  well  he  knows  that  all  will  yet  be  right, 

Up  yonder. 

He  feels  his  bark  Heaven's  happy  shore  is  nearing, 
And  there  with  eye  of  faith  beholds  his  crown, 

And  ever  o'er  his  pathway  joys  are  gleaming, 
Till  through  the  pearly  gate  he  passes  on, 

Up  yonder. 

All  fearlessly  he  walks  through  Death's  dark  river, 
His  hand  in  Jesus  his  Kedeemer's  laid — 

Then  joins  in  holy  songs  of  praise  forever, 

And  wears  a  victor's  crown,  which  ne'er  will  fade, 

Up  yonder. 
Autumn,  1357. 


128  THE  INDIAN'S  RECOMPENSE. 


e 


'TwAS  twiliglit,  and  a  weary  man  whose  form  was 

still  erect, 
Although  the  "  frosts  of  age"  were  sprinkled  o'er 

his  jetty  hair, 
Sought  shelter  at  the  traveler's  transient  home.     His 

head  was  decked 

With  plumes,  and  beaded  moccasins  he  wore,  and 
ornaments  rare. 

Perchance  he  is  a  chief  and  warrior  at  his  distant 

home; 
But  here,  a  wayworn  traveler,  who  from  the  land 

lord's  board 
"Would  beg  the  broken  meat  and  bread,  then  "  'neath 

an  azure  dome" 

Would  lay  his  wearied  head,  while  "the  Great 
Spirit  "  he  adored. 


THE  INDIAN'S  KECOMPENSE.  129 

But  "Idler,  go!"  the  landlord  cried,  "  and  elsewhere 

seek  thy  bread !" 
A  shade  of  sadness  o'er  the  lonely  Indian's  features 

stole ; 
But  kindlier  eyes  in  pity  gazed.     "  Feed  him,"  the 

stranger  said, 

"And  I  will  pay  his  score,  and  thus  perchance  his 
heart  condole." 

Then  was  the  meal  in  haste  prepared,  and  the  way 
farer  ate. 
What  meant  the  silent,  earnest  glance  of  his  dark, 

flashing  eye  ? 
Would  he  with  cabalistic  art  foretell  his  new  friend's 

fate, 

Or  read  the  secrets  of  his  soul,  or  teach  him  how 
to  die  ? 

Years  pass — the  Indian's  whoop  reechoes  over  hill 

and  glen — 

A  prisoner  is  taken,  and  where'er  his  captor  flies, 
He  follows  though  with  trembling  step.    O'er  moun 
tain,  plain,  and  fen, 
Far,  far  away  unto  the  Indian's  home,  the  white 

man  hies. 

6* 


180  THE  INDIAN'S  KECOMPENSE. 

In  birch  canoe  he  dashes  o'er  the  waters — now  he 

learns 
To  speed  the  arrow,  and  the  swift,  light-footed  deer 

pursue; 
Yet  in  his  lonely  musings  of  his  home,  his  spirit 

yearns 

For  dear  familiar  faces,  and  New-England's  skies 
so  blue. 

The  wigwam  fires  burn  bright,  but  Indian  rovers 

must  not  stay — 
A  brother  band  joins  those  for  whom  the  "  pale 

face"  bends  the  bow — 
Their  chieftain  eyes  him  earnestly ;  yet  why,  he  may 

not  say, 

For  quick  they  clasp  their  belts,  and  toward  the 
distant  mountain  go. 

'Tis  nightfall,  and  his  Indian  guide  hath  bidden  him 

away: 

Perchance  to  ring  of  dreaded  tomahawk,  or  scalp- 
ing-knife, 


THE  INDIAN'S  KECOMPENSE.  131 

He  now  amid  the  darkness  seems  to  list.     At  break 

of  day 

The  Indian  speaks,  but  not  to  call  his  prisoner  to 
deadly  strife. 

"  Where  art  thou  now  ?   Does  e'er  thy  memory  paint 

a  half-starved  man, 

Who  at  yon  inn  was  fed  ?     The  Indian  ne'er  for 
gets  a  friend. 
Thy  kindness  /have  recompensed — thy  home  is  thine 

again,* 

And  evermore  may  the  Great  Spirit  thee  and  thine 
defend." 

The  captive's  heart  beat  quick,  and  from  his  dream 

so  wild  he  woke ! 

Upon  the  springing  latch  I  seem  to  see  his  trem 
bling  hand. 

The  lost  was  found — his  guide  had  broken  the  en 
slaver's  yoke, 

And  with  a  ringing  shout  of  joy  he  met  his  house 
hold  band. 

*  The  home  of  the  captured  \^hite  man  was  in  Litchfield,  Conn, 
near  the  close  of  the  eighteenth  century. 


182  AN  IMPROMPTU. 

He  cast  his  bread  upon  the  waters ;  and  'twas  found 

again — 
He  fed  the  hungry,  and  a  blessing  was  laid  up  in 

store, 
Which  He  who  notes  each  tiny  bird  that  falls,  forgot 

not  when 

Afar  he  sadly  roamed,  and  thought  to  see  his  home 
no  more. 


I'LL  think  of  thee 
When  Morning's  twilight  gray 
Proclaims  the  day  is  nigh. — 

I'll  think  of  thee 
When  wearily  the  day 
Her  robes  of  light  lays  by. 

I'U  think  of  thee 
When  on  his  golden  car, 
The  Day-king  rides  afar — 


AN   IMPEOMPTU.  133 

I'U  think  of  thee 
"When  silvery  moonbeems  are 
Outshining  every  star. 

I'll  think  of  thee 

When  Summer's  brightest  flowers 
In  beauty  robe  the  earth — 

I'll  think  of  thee 
When  Winter's  flying  hours 
Bring  gladness  to  our  hearth. 

I'U  think  of  thee 
When  up  before  Grod's  throne 
My  warm  petitions  rise — 

I'll  think  of  thee, 
And  then  my  vows  I'll  own, 
With  love  that  never  dies. 

I'll  think  of  thee 
When  all  the  golden  morn 
Shall  Love  of  past  joys  sing — 

I'll  think  of  thee 
When  from  eve's  dewy  horn 
Shall  Memory's  echoes  ring. 


184  AN  IMPROMPTU. 

I'll  think  of  thee, 
And  hand  in  hand  with  thee 
I'll  roam  in  Fancy's  dream — 

I'll  think  of  thee 
With  joy,  when  cheerily 
My  bark  floats  o'er  Life's  stream. 

I'll  think  of  thee 
When  Sorrow's  flowing  tide 
My  trembling  feet  is  near — 

I'll  think  of  thee 
Should  enemies  deride, 
And  friends  my  spirit  cheer. 

I'll  think  of  thee 
When  angels  whispering  roll 
The  darkened  clouds  away — 

I'll  think  of  thee 
When  o'er  my  inmost  soul 
Breaks  the  sweet  light  of  day. 

I'll  think  of  thee, 
And  for  thy  weal  I'll  pray, 
At  morn,  at  noon,  at  even — 


AN  IMPROMPTU.  185 

I'll  think  of  thee, 
And  hope  the  livelong  day, 
To  meet  thee  in  yon  heaven. 

Wilt  think  of  me 
When  matin  worshipers 
Their  choral  songs  outpour — 

Wilt  think  of  me 
When  the  soft  night-breeze  stirs 
The  wavelet  on  the  shore  ? 

Wilt  think  of  me 
And  bear  my  name  to  heaven 
"On  wings  of  Faith  and  Prayer"? 

Wilt  think  of  me 
When  earthly  ties  are  riven, 
And  I  shall  worship  there  ? 

Wilt  think  of  me 
And  feel  a  stronger  cord 
Doth  bind  thee  to  the  skies — • 

Wilt  think  of  me 

And  pray  our  gracious  Lord  % 

For  a  home  in  Paradise  ? 


136  THE  RAINBOW,  WITH  REFLECTIONS. 

Wilt  think  of  me 
When  thou  hast  run  earth's  race, 
And  death  shall  thee  embrace  ? 

Wilt  think  of  me 
And  think  I  wait  thee  where 
The  soul  ne'er  knows  despair  ? 


WE  welcome  thee,  bright  rainbow  in  the  clouds  1 
Blest  emblem  of  Jehovah's  truthfulness — 
Glorious  type  of  God's  own  watchful  care — 
Fair  signet-ring  which  His  sure  promise  sealed, 
That  never  more  should  this  earth  deluged  be — 
My  spirit  rises  when  I  gaze  on  thee ! 
A  sweet,  a  holy  calm  steals  o'er  my  heart, 
Wherte'er  thy  beauteous  colors  on  the  sky 
I  view,  all  painted  by  a  hand  divine ; 


THE  RAINBOW,  WITH  REFLECTIONS.  137 

And  high  above  the  clouds  my  thoughts  do  soar, 
Oft  as  on  thee  with  joyful  heart  I  gaze. 

Foreshadower  bright  of  beauties  round  Heaven's 

throne, 

Thou  comest  as  a  crystal  water-drop 
From  out  the  cooling  fount  of  Paradise, 
To  wash  away  the  feverish  cares  of  earth, 
And  make  the  fainting  spirit's  eyes  grow  clear. 

Beauteous  bow,  I  love  thy  teachings  mild ! 
And  on  this  consecrated  Sabbath  eve, 
'Twas  sweet  to  see  thee  bright,  and  brighter  grow, 
Till  thy  most  splendid  arch  its  shadows  cast, 
Above  where  thou  in  glory  high  didst  sit ; 
And  fain  would  I  have  longer  gazed  on  thee  I 
But  ah  !  like  all  the  brightest  things  of  earth, 
Thou  soon — ay,  very  soon  didst  fleet  away, 
And  the  light,  gentle  pattering  of  the  rain, 
A  soft  song  of  departure  seemed  to  sing, 
While  the  bright  sun  from  'neath  a  cloud  looked  out, 
And  sweetly  smiled  a  beautiful  "Good  night." 

That  bow  so  bright  had  passed  away — and  then 
I  watched  the  bending  of  the  graceful  corn, 
As  from  its  long  and  slender  waving  leaves, 
It  shook  the  tear-drops  of  the  dying  storm, 


J38  THE  BAIXBOW,  WITH  REFLECTIONS. 

And  heard  the  whisper  of  the  gentle  breeze, 
As  softly  through  the  swaying  trees  it  stole, 
While  on  the  western  sky  rose  gorgeous  clouds, 
Which  borrowed  glory  from  the  setting  sun, 
And  the  gay  caroling  of  happy  birds, 
That  all  around' were  warbling,  "God  is  good," 
To  holy  praise  the  soul  seemed  to  invite. 

With  joy  I  listened,  and  with  joy  I  gazed, 
And  then  exclaimed:  "This  earth  is  beautiful; 
But  fairer  trees  are  waving  their  green  boughs, 
Where  radiant  fields  with  sweetest  flowers  bloom, 
And  cloudless  skies  with  brightest  rays  are  beaming, 
Where  holiest  songs  sound  forth  from  seraph  lips ; 
For  fadeless  joys  each  spirit  ever  shares, 
Where  our  Immanuel  in  glory  sits, 
And  his  redeemed  shall  praise  him  evermore." 

Then  who  would  wish  to  linger  on  time's  shores, 
Where  joys  which  brightest  seem  do  quickly  fade  — 
As  transient  as  the  rainbow's  brilliant  hues, 
And  fleeting  as  the  fading  summer-flower  ? 


ON  THE   DEATH  OF  AN  ACQUAINTANCE.       139 


of  mi 


OH  !  weep  ;  for  a  kind  friend  from  us  hath  gone, 
And  love  doth  prompt  the  tribute  of  a  tear, 
For  him  whose  memory  will  be  ever  dear. 

But  heard  ye  those  sweet  strains  from  "  viewless 

harps" 

Around  his  dying-bed  ?     And  did  ye  list 
To  those  love-notes  that  soothed  his  soul  to  rest  ? 
Heard  ye  the  rustling  of  their  snow-white  wings, 
As  from  the  sinless  shores  of  Paradise 
They  came,  a  bright  and  blissful  company, 
His  spirit  through  those  pearly  gates  to  lead, 
Which  ever  guard  the  New  Jerusalem  ? 
Saw  ye  the  glittering  robes  of  righteousness 
By  Jesus  given,  which  his  freed  soul  put  on, 
When  entered  he  those  holy  gates  with  joy  ? 
Heard  ye  the  song  of  welcome  from  the  band 
Of  happy  harpers  round  the  Eternal's  throne 


140   ON  THE  DEATH  OF  AN  ACQUAINTANCE. 

When  first  he  walked  the  golden  streets  of  heaven  ? 
Saw  ye  the  blissful  smile  that  played  around 
His  lips,  when  near  Immanuel's  throne  he  bowed, 
And  cast  his  starry  crown  before  his  feet, 
While  softly  his  redemption  song  began  ? 
But  sweeter,  louder  the  glad  strain  arose, 
As  with  heaven's  bliss  entranced,  his  song  flowed  on ! 
For  Love's  the  theme  which  holy  angels  sing 
Unceasingly :  but  those  sweet  strains  grow  soft — 
Methinks,  when,  freed  from  earth,  a  ransomed  soul 
Goes  home  to  God,  lest  heaven's  fruition  full 
Burst  on  the  new-arrived  and  raptured  soul 
"With  bliss  too  great  for  one  so  late  from  earth 
To  bear ;  but  gathering  strength  from  bliss  enhanced, 
Louder  and  clearer  swells  the  holy  song — 
New  beauties  on  the  wondering  gaze  arise, 
Till  the  enraptured  spirit's  wing  grows  strong, 
And  rising  from  those  pavements  of  bright  gold, 
By  angel  bands  conducted  swift  it  flies, 
To  view  the  glories  of  its  home  above. 

Such  joys,  methinks,  are  his  for  whom  ye  mourn  ! 
Then  dry  your  tears,  and  weep  for  him  no  more ! 
For  lo,  from  his  love-lighted  home  on  high, 
He  smiles  upon  the  friends  that  here  he  loved, 


ON  THE  DEATH  OF  AN  ACQUAINTANCE.   141 

And  loves  them  still  with  ever-growing  love — • 
And  from  his  glorious  mansion  in  the  sky, 
Perchance  he'll  stoop  to  whisper  in  your  ear, 
And  heaven's  own  radiant  glories  so  describe 
Earth  will  seem  less  enchanting — heaven  more  dear. 

And  when  your  lamp  of  life  is  burning  low, 
Perchance  he'll  come,  a  heavenly  visitant, 
To  sing  celestial  songs  around  your  heads : 
And  when  your  eyes  in  death  are  growing  dim, 
And  earth's  familiar  sounds  ye  hear  no  more, 
Perchance  his  song,  unheard  by  other  ears, 
Your  passage  over  Death's  dark  tide  will  cheer, 
And  to  the  gates  of  heaven  he  will  lead  you. 
Then  dry  your  tears,  and  weep  no  more — 
But  girding  on  the  panoply  of  prayer, 
And  strong  in  holy  faith  and  grace  divine, 
"  Onward  and  upward"  toward  his  happy  home. 

E'en  now  I  seem  his  dying  voice  to  hear, 
So  gently  bidding  friends,  "  "Weep  not  for  me"- 
And  now  the  notes  of  an  angelic  lyre 
Seem  gently  falling  on  my  listening  ear, 
On  this  first  Sabbath  eve  he  spends  in  heaven. 

Methinks  his  bliss  each  moment  doth  increase ! 
And  even  now  it  hath  become  so  great, 


142  PRAYER. 

No  scale  terrestrial  such  joy  could  weigh — 
And  oh !  'tis  surely  sweet  to  think  that  through 
Eternity  so  vast  and  glorious  too, 
His  joys  will  ever  bright  and  brighter  grow. 


fjrajtr. 


WHEN  adverse  winds  sweep  hopes  of  joy  away, 

And  Sorrow's  waves  are  dashing  round  our  souls, 

"We  joy,  and  peace,  and  safety  find  in  prayer ! 

Our  solitude  is  sweet,  when  'tis  like  his 

Who  loved  Judea's  mountain  solitude, 

And  early  sought  the  forest's  shade — for  prayer. 

When  from  the  eyes  of  absent  friends  most  dear, 
In  kindest  love  we  may  not  wipe  the  tear 
Which  sorrow  brings,  nor  e'en  their  joys  may  share, 
We  love  to  lift  the  heart  for  them  in  prayer. 


PRAYEK. 

And  when  we  fear  that  those  we  love  forget, 
We  bless  our  God  that  we  for  them  may  pray — 
Sweet  Charity  throws  o'er  their  faults  a  vail, 
And  purer  grows  our  love,  when  oft  we  plead 
With  him  to  bless  them  with  his  guardian  care. 

When  cold  neglect  from  those  whose  love  we  prize 
E'en  makes  us  weep,  we  find  relief  in  prayer — 
And  kiss  His  hand  who  holds  our  aching  heads, 
While,  leaning  on  our  gracious  Saviour's  arm, 
We  bathe  our  souls  in  his  undying  love, 
Who  knows  what  bitter  pangs  his  children  feel, 
When  their  grieved  hearts  may  not  their  sorrows 

speak, 

Nor  seek  the  sympathy  of  those  they  love  ? 
For  well  remembers  he  those  hours  of  grief, 
When  those  most  dear  to  him  of  earthly  friends 
Forsook,  and  left  him  to  his  cruel  foes. 

Oh !  sweet  it  is  in  hours  of  bitter  grief, 
To  share  the  Saviour's  tender  sympathy, 
And  trust  in  him  who  never  will  forsake 
The  hearts  that  seek  for  bliss  in  his  deep  love. 


144  PRAYER. 

Ah  !  who  amid  my  joys  and  'mid  my  griefs 
Will  pray  for  me  ? 

My  spirit  groweth  strong, 

At  thought  that  there  are  those  upon  whose  lips 
My  name  is  sometimes  borne  in  fervent  prayer  1 

O  friends !  I  crave  no  richer  boon  of  you 
Than  this — that  ye  icitt  often  pray  for  me  1 
For  be  your  distance  from  me  e'er  so  great, 
Ye  thus  may  kindly  help  me  on  my  way, 
And  surely  absence  ne'er  can  quench  the  love 
Of  those  who  often  for  each  other  pray. 


FAITH.  145 


FAITH,  like  an  eagle  swift  and  strong, 
Lifts  up  the  soul  on  buoyant  wing, 

And  bids  it  hearken  to  the  song 

Which  in  high  heaven  bright  seraphs  sing. 

It  lightens  all  the  cares  of  life, 

And  darkest  clouds  of  doubt  dispels : 

When  its  bright  stars  in  glory  rise, 
'Mid  grief  the  heart  enraptured  swells. 

It  bids  us  gaze  with  piercing  eye, 
Beyond  this  "vale  of  tears"  and  pain, 

And  view  a  bright — an  undimmed  sky, 
Whose  radiant  glories  never  wane. 

It  bids  us  view  the  golden  Throne, 
Eound  which  glad  angel-harpers  fly 

With  joy,  where  never  sigh  nor  moan 
May  come,  nor  sorrow  dim  the  eye. 

Y 


146 


FAITH. 


When  Joy's  bright  petals  one  by  one, 

All  fade  beneath  ungenial  skies, 
Faith  tells  us  of  a  glorious  sun 

Whose  rays  divine  upon  us  rise. 

It  makes  the  Christian's  heart  rejoice 

When  dark  the  tempest  round  him  lowers : 

For  amid  the  storm  he  hears  a  voice 

Which  echoes  through  heaven's  fadeless  bowers 


LINES  TO   MY  DEAR  AUNT,  L.  T.  H.  147 


INSCRIBED  TO  MY  DEAR  AUNT,   L.   T.   H. 

"  THE  hues  of  bliss  more  brightly  glow, 
.    .          Chastised  by  sabler  tints  of  woe." 

"  DARK,  e'en  at  noon-tide,  is  our  mortal  sphere ; 

But  let  us  hope ;  to  doubt  is  to  rebel ; 
Let  us  exult  in  hope  that  aU  shall  yet  be  well." 

CLOUDS  darkened  morning's  sky,  and  rain-drops  fell- 

At  eve  a  bright  rainbow  appeared  to  deck 

The  darkened  cloud,  and  gild  the  smiling  earth ; 

And  while  I  gazed  upon  the  works  of  God 

So  beautiful,  Hope  whispered  to  my  soul, 

And  Faith  a  sweet  and  holy  lesson  taught. 

Oh !  could  we  learn  the  heavenly  alchemy, 
To  draw  from  life's  most  bitter  cup  of  woe, 


148  LINES  TO  MY  DEAR  AUNT,  L.  T.  H. 

The  honeyed  sweets  which  Resignation  brings — 
Oh !  could  we  learn  to  look  beyond  this  earth- 
To  weigh  Eternity's  bright  joys  with  Time's, 
And  bless  the  storm  which  sweeps  our  hopes  away, 
Erewhile  the  hope  of  brighter,  purer  bliss 
Beyond  this  earth,  the  fainting  spirit  cheers — 
Oh !  could  we  learn  to  see  our  FATHER'S  hand, 
In  all  which  here  we  call  the  ills  of  life, 
We  sure  should  find  life  hath  few  bitter  hours 
In  which  some  sweets  may  not  commingled  be. 

When  on  and  on  through  heaven's  bright  gates  of 

pearl, 

Our  ransomed  souls  on  Mercy's  wing  shall  fly, 
Where  grief-clouds  never  more  the  spirit  fright, 
Perchance  our  gladdest  song  of  praise  shall  rise 
For  that  which  here  on  earth  hath  grieved  us  most — 
Perchance  we  then  may  joy  o'er  blighted  hopes 
Most    fondly    cherished,    o'er    which    here    we've 

mourned. 

Blest  with  such  hopes  as  these,  why  should  we  grieve 
At  aught  our  gracious  Heavenly  Father  wills  ? 


LINES  TO  MY  DEAR  AUNT,  L.  T.  H.  149 

All  no !  since  he  our  lot  doth  well  o'errule, 
Let  Hope  with  rainbow  colors  paint  our  sky, 
And  Faith,  with  light  serene,  dispel  each  cloud 
Of  doubt  which  would  arise,  our  joys  to  dim ; 
While  ever  upward  looks  the  spirit's  eye, 
And  views  a  God  of  love  upon  that  throne, 
O'er  which  His  beauteous  bow  of  promise  shines — 
Yea,  in  each  joy  and  grief  of  life,  let  us  trust 
In  "  Him  who  ever  doeth  all  things  well." 


150  TO  MRS.  ,  WITH  A 


Co  sirs. 


WITH    A    CHRISTMAS    MESSAGE    FROM     "  MARY     IN 
HEAVEN." 

"  IP  false,  'tis  beautiful,  the  thought 

That  spirits  round  are  flying  : 
That  whispers,  in  each  dream  are  brought, 

Like  Summer  zephyrs  sighing ! 
Nor  would  I  break  so  sweet  a  charm, 

For  if  no  good,  it  leaves  no  harm." 

'TwAS  mine  with.  Fancy's  ear  to  seem  to  hear 
The  voice  of  a  beloved  but  absent  friend. 
She  spake  with  words  sincere — in  accents  sweet, 
And  so  I  wrote  of  her  whose  soul  hath  fled. 

I  wrote  the  wotds  I  seemed  to  hear  her  speak, 
Though  not  to  me  those  gentle  words  she  spoke  ; 
Her  words  a  Christmas  message  seemed  to  be — 
I  listened,  and  I  seemed  to  hear  her  say : 


CHRISTMAS  MESSAGE.  151 

"  0  mother  I  list,  and  Mary  will  describe 
The  joys  and  beauties  of  the  world  on  high* ! 
For  the  resplendent  skies  of  Paradise, 
The  sable  robes  of  night  may  ne'er  put  on ; 
The  Sun  of  Eighteousness  with  radiant  beams, 
Ever  illumines  that  bright  world  of  love. 
The  ever- verdant  tree  of  life  how  fair ! 
Its  healing  fruits  so  wondrous  sweet  I've  tasted — • 
The  golden  streets,  and  golden  throne  of  heaven, 
Too  bright  for  mortal  eyes  to  gaze  upon, 
I've  seen.    Those  golden  streets  I've  walked  with 

friends 

Whose  sweet  companionship  on  earth  I  loved — 
Before  that  golden  throne  with  seraphs  bowed, 
While  the  bright  walls  of  heaven  our  praise  re 
sounded. 

"  I  had  glad  moments — full  of  joy  on  earth, 
Yet  soon  o'er  them  a  saddening  shade  was  thrown ; 
But  here  no  shade  of  doubt  our  joys  can  darken ; 
For  o'er  the  boundless  horizon  of  heaven, 
Bright  glory  and  immortal  beauty  beam, 
And  fairest  flowers  of  bliss — bliss  unalloyed, 
Are  ever  springing  in  my  pathway  here : 


152  TO  MKS. ,  WITH  A 

I  would  that  I  might  pluck  a  flower  so  pure, 
And  while  it  brightly  glows  with  dews  of  love 
Distilled  in  heavenly  bowers,  to  you  present  it. 

"  In  holy  angels'  sweet  companionship, 
Mother,  one  happy,  happy  year  I've  spent, 
And  thinkest  thou  thy  daughter's  love  hath  waned? 
Ah  no !  but  with  an  angel's  love  so  pure, 
I  love  the  friends  which  were  to  me  so  dear. 

"  I  know  my  mother's  love  will  never  wane ! 
At  twilight's  hour — that  holy  musing  hour, 
When  daily  toil  is  o'er,  wilt  think  of  me  ? 
Oh!  then  think:  'She  is  sharing  heaven's  high 

bliss.' 

And  while  thou  grievest  that  one  link  of  the  chain 
Which  bound  thee  to  the  earth  is  severed  now, 
Oh !  think — a  new  link  in  the  golden  chain 
Which  bound  thee  to  the  heavenly  land  is  formed. 

"  When  last  our  parting  words  had  just  been  spoken, 
And  I  had  crossed  the  threshold  of  your  home 
With  my  heart's  chosen  one,  dear  friends  I  left, 
Nor  thought  that  I  should  never  more  return — 
Should  never  more  my  mother's  welcome  hear ; 


CHRISTMAS  MESSAGE.  153 

But  when  afar  from  thee,  Death  dimmed  my  eye, 
And  heavenly  harpers  round  me  sweetly  sung, 
Oh !  then,  dear  mother,  my  thoughts  were  with 

thee, 

For  ah !  I  knew  that  thou  wouldst  lonely  be, 
When  thou  thy  Mary's  face  no  more  couldst  see. 

"  When  death  my  eye  and  lip  forever  sealed, 
A  shining  seraph  oped  the  gates  of  heaven, 
And  waiting  angels  led  me  kindly  in. 
The  change  from  earth  to  heaven — how  passing 

great! 

The  joys  of  earth  at  first  were  quite  forgot : 
When  from  my  Saviour's  hand  a  harp  I  took, 
With  joy  intense  all  tremblingly  I  swept  it ; 
And  when  the  sun  this  morn  arose  on  earth, 
Each  holy  lyre  of  heaven  anew  was  tuned — 
The  redemption  song  then  loudly,  clearly  swelled 
Along  the  beauteous  plains  of  highest  heaven ; 
From  the  sweet  lyre  of  Israel's  sweet  psalmist, 
And  from  the  holy  harps  of  all  the  redeemed, 
That  song  so  thrilling,  freely  flowed  along. 
My  harp  I  tuned — oh !  then  my  spirit  sung, 
And  had  you  listened  to  that  angel  strain, 
7* 


154  TO  MRS.  . 

You  could  not  wish  your  Mary  back  again  1 

Oil !  could  you  see  the  wreath  I  wear  in  heaven, 

You'd  surely  say :  '  No  wreath  on  earth's  so  fair.' 

"  With  voice  of  friend,  I  loved  my  voice  to  blend, 
Oft  in  the  quiet  of  the  evening  hour ; 
But,  mother,  sweeter  music  now  is  mine  I 
Oh !  could  I  the  pure  bliss  of  heaven  describe, 
In  words  that  mortal  ear  might  understand, 
And  might  I  whisper  those  sweet  words  to  you, 
Sure  they  would  cheer  you  in  your  loneliness : 
But  at  dawn  of  morn,  or  at  the  '  dewy  eve,' 
Will  you  not  seem  to  listen  to  my  voice, 
With  a  spirit's  softest  whisper  telling  you 
Of  bliss  such  as  in  Paradise  I  share  ? 
On  earth  a  little  while  will  you  wait,  mother, 
Then  to  heaven's  bliss  will  Mary  welcome  you." 


THE  CHILDLESS  WIDOW.  155 


C|e  Cjjilte  S&itoto 


AT  THE  GRAVES  OP  HER  DEPARTED. 

As  weeks  by  weeks,  and  months  by  months  pass  on, 
I  oft  to  these  lone  graves  must  sadly  come  — 
And  painful  memories  evermore  will  rise, 
And  sorrows  deep  will  overflow  my  eyes. 

Hark  !  Memory  speaks  !  by  her  voice,  as  in  life, 
My  dearest  husband's  lips  are  whispering  —  "  Wife  I" 
And  my  sweet  children  gathering  round  my  knee, 
Are  gently  calling  —  "  Mother  !"  unto  me  : 
And  while  I  list  to  hear  what  they  would  say, 
Again  my  pulses  quicken  joyfully  ; 
And  then  I  start,  and  faster  fall  my  tears, 
While  I  recall  the  changing  hopes  and  fears 
That  thrilled  our  hearts,  when  by  our  Anna's  side, 
A  mourning  family  we  watched  —  and  sighed 
And  wept,  here  at  her  grave  when  she  was  dead. 


156  THE  CHILDLESS  WIDOW. 

But  oil !  how  quickly  round  another  bed, 

We  who  were  left,  were  weeping  yet  again — 

And  soon  again  another  funeral  train, 

With  deep  and  deepening  grief  came  slowly  here, 

To  take  my  husband  from  a  thrice-filled  bier  I 

And  at  my  fireside  sickness  lingered  still — 

My  darling  infant  yet  was  very  ill, 

Yet  much  I  hoped  he  would  be  spared  to  me, 

Nor  hoped  awhile  in  vain.     He  seemed  to  be 

From  danger  free,  and  pleased  with  childish  glee : 

A  change  came  o'er  the  sufferer  suddenly — 

We  gazed  into  his  glazed  and  death-struck  eye, 

And  watched  and  prayed  in  untold  agony : 

How  anxiously  we  held  his  little  head — 

My  youngest  child — my  baby-boy  was  dead  I 

Then  what  an  overflowing  flood  of  grief, 
Came  sweeping  through  my  soul — and  no  relief 
I  found,  from  earthly  friend,  or  old  or  new, 
Till  while  I  near  the  Hand  which  smote  me  drew, 
And  earnest   gazed  _  toward   heaven,  methought 

knew, 

Dear  Saviour,  lying  on  thy  gentle  arm, 
My  little  darling  one,  safe  from  all  harm, 


THE   CHILDLESS  WIDOW.  157 

While  round  his  lip  there  played  a  smile  so  sweet, 
I  felt  that  Grod  my  child  would  happy  keep, 
And  lighter  grew  my  griefs  as  then  I  thought, 
His  spirit  was  with  happiness  so  fraught : 
But  when  the  springing  grass  was  waving  free, 
On  just  four  graves  new-made,  all  mournfully, 
My  silent  tears  in  solitude  I  wept, 
And  memory  of  my  choicest  treasures  kept ; 
When  Summer's  flowers  unfolded,  here  I  came — 
When  Autumn  stored  her  fruits,  I  came  again — 
And  now,  when  wintry  blasts  are  blowing  wild, 
Or  when  the  sun  is  shining  clear  and  mild, 
I  often  hither  come,  with  willing  feet, 
For  oh !  no  place  on  earth  is  now  so  sweet 
As  where  my  dearly-loved  ones  are  asleep. 


"  Father  compassionate,"  behold  thy  child, 
As  here  I  weep  in  agony  so  wild ! 
In  pity  view  me  from  thy  home  above, 
And  with  the  healing  cordial  of  thy  love, 
Oh !  bind  my  riven  heart-strings  up  again, 
And  teach  me,  Lord,  to  glorify  thy  name  I 


158  THE  CHILDLESS  WIDOW. 

Gird  me,  Omnipotent,  with  strength  divine 
To  live  this  life  so  desolate  of  mine, 
And  when  my  pilgrimage  of  life  is  o'er, 
Dear  Lord,  receive  me  to  that  blissful  shore, 
Where  sorrow  ne'er  can  heave  my  bosom  more  I 
There  may  my  grief-worn  spirit  rest  with  thee, 
And  share  the  joys  of  heaven  eternally. 


TO  MARY  H.  P.  159 


Co  Uaii  f.  f , 


ON  THE  EXCHANGE  OF  AN  EMBROIDERED  HARP  FOR 
AN  EMBROIDERED  CORNUCOPIA. 

THOU  hast  wrought  beauteous  flowers  for  me,  Mary, 
Thy  plenteous  horn  is  filled  with  roses  fair, 

And  I  have  strung  my  harp  for  thee,  Mary, 
And  round  it  I  have  twined  a  wreath  with  care. 

With  roses  may  thy  path  be  strewed,  Mary, 

Fair,  fragrant  roses  of  affection  true ! 
A  sweet — a  heavenly  harp  be  thine,  Mary, 

Where  friends  most  dearly  loved  ne'er  say  adieu. 

May  we  together  pluck  sweet  flowers,  Mary, 

Along  the  banks  of  heaven's  pure  crystal  stream, 

And  tune  our  lyres  together  there,  Mary, 

While  golden  joys  shall  on  our  pathway  gleam. 


160  FORESTS  AND  FOREST  TEACHINGS. 


atrir  forest 


THE  wind-swept  wintry  woods  are  dear  to  me, 
"When  icy  pearls  are  hung  on  every  tree  — 
"When  sparkling  snow-wreaths  crown  the  forest-kings, 
And  crystal  gems  are  decking  lowlier  things. 

And  oh  !  I  love  the  woods  in  sweet  Spring-time, 

When  trees  are  decked  in  living  robes  again  ; 

Ten  thousand  plants  burst  from  their  wintry  tombs, 

And  bright-eyed  squirrels  wander  from  their  homes, 

And  icy  fetters  of  the  rivers  break, 

And  merry  songsters  cheerful  echoes  wake, 

And  every  tree,  and  plant,  and  living  thing, 

Is  sweetly  singing  of  the  merry  spring. 

I  love  the  green  and  glorious  Summer  wood, 
"When  fairest  flowerets  gem  the  mossy  sod, 
When  Peace  is  whispered  in  each  wakening  breeze, 
And  Nature  warbles  forth  her  melodies. 


FORESTS  AND  FOEEST  TEACHINGS.  161 

But  most  I  love  the  sighing  Autumn  woods — 

For  then  in  my  glad  spirit's  happiest  moods, 

I  gaze  up  through  the  richly-tinted  trees, 

Whose  boughs  are  wildly  tossed  by  some  strong 

breeze, 

And  watch  the  luminous  and  snowy  clouds, 
That  floating  on  so  high  the  heavens  enshroud — 
And  seem  like  robes  of  white- winged  spirits  of  the 

sky, 

That  above  me  "  wing  the  air"  so  peacefully, 
My  every  nerve  is  thrilled  with  such  deep  joy, 
I  almost  hold  my  breath  while  they  glide  by, 
To  hear  some  spirit  whisper  from  above, 
Words  breathed  by  angels  in  their  home  of  love ; 
And  while  I  list  the  music  of  the  leaves 
That  round  me  fall,  each  waving  leaflet  breathes 
In  tones  of  gentlest,  holiest  tenderness,  » 
Its  dying  echoes,  which  the  heart  address. 

Ah !  there  is  something  sweetly  sad  and  holy, 
A  something  near  akin  to  melancholy, 
In  the  light  whisper  of  a  falling  leaf, 
AVhose  life  hath  been  so  glad,  and  yet  so  brief, 


162      FORESTS  AND  FOREST  TEACHINGS. 

As  rudely  riven  from  its  "parent  tree,1' 

It  joins  its  fallen  brothers  tremblingly, 

And  yet  a  something  like  a  spirit's  voice, 

Which  though  half  mournful,  makes  the  heart  rejoice. 

The  voices  of  these  temples  of  our  God, 
(Whose  architecture  is  ever  varied  and  new — 
Whose  paintings  are  of  ever  changeful  hue — ) 
Glad  voices — sweet  and  solemn-— soft  and  loud, 
Invite  us  their  communion  oft  to  seek, 
And  while  we  list,  their  sacred  teachings  speak. 

For  forest  trees  seem  priests  by  God  anointed, 
With  numerous  tongues  for  this  great  work  appointed, 
Aloud  to  tell  the  nations  of  the  earth, 
Th'  omnipotence  of  Him  who  gave  them  birth, 
And  then  with  gentler  voices  through  the  wood, 
And  softest  breathings  whisper :  "  God  is  good." 


EVENING  MEDITATIONS.  163 


(fcterihtg 


Oh  !  come  !  on  Night's  calm  features  gaze  with  me  I 
Light  fleecy  clouds  all  o'er  the  heavens  now  float, 
And  hide,  full  oft,  yon  silver  crescent  bright, 
While  stars  from  'neath  their  snowy  folds  look  out, 
And  seem  like  angel  eyes,  from  the  bright  land 
Of  pure,  celestial  spirits  looking  down, 
Over  the  souls  of  sorrowing  saints  to  watch. 

And  oh  !  what  untold  joy  it  gives  to  think 
Of  that  pure  clime,  far,  far  above  the  stars, 
"Where  joys  eternal  ever  brighter  grow  — 
Where  disencumbered  of  its  house  of  clay, 
The  unwearied  spirit  needs  nor  sleep  nor  rest, 
But  soars  along  through  heaven's  all-glorious  skies, 
Or  pauses  in  its  flight  'neath  some  bright  dome 
Of  the  celestial  city  of  the  blest, 
With  kindred  spirits  to  converse  awhile, 
While  ever-brightening  joys  it  drinketh  there. 


EVENING  MEDITATIONS. 


Oh  !  when  on  those  dear  joys  I  meditate, 
My  exulting  spirit's  wing  doth  seem  to  beat 
Against  the  side  of  its  frail  prison-house, 
And  straggle  hard  to  be  forever  free  ; 
But  a  voice  seems  to  whisper,  "  Wait  awhile," 
And  then  I  strive  on  earth  to  be  content, 
Till  He  whose  hand  almighty  holds  my  life, 
Shall  call  me  where,  far,  far  above  the  stars, 
Himself  in  highest  glory  ever  reigns. 

Sept  13,  1851. 


EPITAPH.  165 


OH  !  the  joy  of  our  liome  hath  departed, 
For  the  voice  of  the  young  and  gay-hearted 
In  the  slumber  of  death  is  now  hushed, 
And  fond  hopes  for  the  future  are  crushed, 
And  our  hearts  in  their  loneliness  bleed ; 
Yet  our  tears  the  kind  Saviour  doth  heed, 
And  the  friend  who  in  pity  unsealed 
The  closed  eyes  of  the  dead,  oft  hath  healed 
The  deep  griefs  of  the  heart,  and  we  trust 
In  our  God,  and  each  murmur  is  hushed. 


166  LINES. 


SUGGESTED  BY  THE  BREAKING  OF  MY  HARP. 

THE  harp  that  late  I  tuned  to  sing  so  sweetly  and  so 

well, 

Now  broken  lies — the  rude  wind  swept  it  from  its 
resting-place, 

And  loosened  all  its  strings ;  no  more  JEolus'  breath 

may  swell 

Its  notes  along,  nor  softest  cadences  their  pathway 
trace 

Across  the  bosom  of  my  gentle  lyre,  until  with  care 

The  broken  thing  cemented  be,  and  I  its  strings  re 
pair. 

Ah !  now  no  trace  of  break  is  left — my  harp  is  tuned 

once  more ; 

Yes !  carefully  I've  turned  its  keys,  and  sounded 
every  string, 


LINES.  167 

The  zephyr's  breath  sweeps  o'er  it  gently,  sweetly  as 

before, 

Its  swelling  notes  the  far-off  music  of  the  grove 
now  bring 

To  mind — its  cadences  so  soft  are  sweetly  whisper 
ing,  "Peace!" 

Then  changeful  as  emotions  of  the  soul  the  sounds  I 
trace. 

How  oft,  when  Sorrow's  winds  blow  o'er  the  heart,  it 

tuneless  lies ! 
Nor  can  its  riven  strings  to  sweetest  melody  awake, 

Until  some  skillful  mind  the  balm  of  sympathy  ap 
plies, 

And  the  Almighty's  fingers  tune  the  keys :  then  soft 
notes  take 

The  place  of  deep  desponding  tones,  and  gentlest  har 
monies  fill 

The  trembling  spirit's  strings,  and  holiest  notes  the 
bosom  thrill. 

Then  pour  upon  the  burthened  heart  the  holy,  healing 

balm 

Of  sympathy,  and  in  each  sorrow  lean  upon  the 
arm 


168  LINES. 

Of  Him  whose  gentle  voice  can  make  the  troubled 

spirit  calm, 
And  who  amid  the  rudest  storm  can  shield  the  soul 

from  harm ! 
Illuminmg  thy  pathway  with  a  radiant  heaven-born 

hope, 
He  will  sustain  thee  till  heaven's  pearly  gate  for  thee 

shall  ope. 


DEATH  OF   MOSES.  169 


of      0aes. 


[TiiE  following  poem  was  written  several  years  before  "  Scenes  ia 
tho  Life  of  Moses,"  which  will  be  found  in  another  place. 

At  the  suggestion  of  a  friend  who  heard  the  "Death  of  Moses  "  read, 
the  other  was  subsequently  written.] 

ONE  hundred  twenty  years  did  Moses  live  I 
Yet  with  unwasted  strength  and  eye  undimmed, 
On  Pisgah's  top  he  laid  him  down  to  die. 

Methinks  with  tearful  eye  the  host  of  Israel 
Beheld  their  leader's  form  from  sight  receding, 
As  silently  up  Nebo's  rugged  hights    . 
At  the  Almighty's  call  alone  he  clomb, 
On  Canaan's  goodly  promised  land  to  gaze — 
That  land  on  which  his  feet  must  never  tread, 
Because  his  God  he  had  offended  once. 
Alas  !  what  ski  so  great  was  in  him  found, 
8 


170  DEATH   OF   MOSErf. 

That  made  Jehovah's  awful  anger  rise, 

And  caused  His  threatening  mandate  to  go  forth, 

"  Into  the  promised  land  thou  ne'er  shalt  go  ?" 

'Twas  this — he  sanctified  not  God  the  Lord 
In  the  sight  of  His  own  chosen  Israel, 
But  in  his  anger  twice  he  smote  the  rock, 
And  as  from  thence  the  water  swiftly  flowed, 
The  glory  which  to  God  belonged  he  took, 
And  to  the  goodly  promised  Canaan  then 
The  Omnipotent  forbade  him  to  go  in. 

Sad  memories  methinks  his  bosom  stirred, 
When  thought  he  then  of  Israel's  myriad  throng, 
Which  through  their  weary  pilgrimage  he  led, 
And  knew  that  he  could  lead  them  nevermore ; 
Nor  e'en  from  one  of  that  vast  .multitude 
Kind  words  in  his  departing  hour  receive. 

Yet  he  who  once  in  Sinai's  cloud  encircled, 
With  God  talked  face  to  face  as  to  a  friend, 
In  death's  dark,  trying  hour  was  not  alone — 
But  in  his  "  everlasting  arms  "  of  love, 
The  Lord  of  hosts  his  dying  head  sustained. 


DEATH  OF  MOSES.  171 

Methinks  'twas  passing  sweet  thus  there  to  die, 
Where  could  be  heard  no  moan  of  mourning  friend 
To  make  the  soul  still  wish  to  linger  here. 

Perchance  with  sweetest  sound  of  angels,  songs 

lie  there  was  hushed  to  sleep,  when  his  freed  soul 

Put  on  its  robe  of  immortality — 

Flew  up  before  the  golden  throne  of  heaven, 

And  from  his  Saviour's  hand  a  harp  received, 

While  still  the  notes  of  the  angelic  song 

Eesounded  louder,  louder,  and  more  loud, 

Till  heaven's  vast  realm  was  with  glad  music  filled, 

And  to  heaven's  praise  his  harp  and  voice  were  tuned. 

Thousands  of  years  in  his  unnoted  grave, 
And  unknown,  did  Israel's  leader's  ashes  lie — 
No  monumental  pile  the  traveler  saw, 
To  bid  him  speechless  pause  and  reverent, 
While  faith  flew  back  to  years  to  him  but  by 
The  holy  Bible's  truthful  story  known — 
To  years  when  through  the  wilderness  so  vast, 
lie  led  the  erring  hosts  of  Israel  on — 
That  wondrous  holy,  patient,  mighty  man : 
Yet  He  who  on  that  sacred  mountain-top 


172  DEATH  OF  MOSES. 

Witnessed  his  death,  and  silent  buried  him, 
Marked  where  his  "  house  of  clay"  was  shattered 

thus, 
And  through  the  years  of  tune  guards  well  the  place. 

'Twos  there  he  died — to  us  the  record  is  given : 

Then  naught  of  him  we  hear,  till  Tabor's  hight, 

Illumined  by  the  glory  of  the  Lord, 

Receives  the  anointed,  only  Son  of  God ; 

And,  robed  in  glittering  vestments  of  the  skies, 

Elijah,  faithful,  holy  seer  of  Israel, 

And  Moses,  meekest  man  of  all  the  earth, 

Come  on  swift  wing  from  shining  plains  of  heaven, 

With  their  Redeemer  sweetly  to  commune. 

O  holy  errand !  happy  messengers ! 

Sent  from  the  holy  courts  of  heaven, 

To  God's  dear  suffering  Son  to  minister — 

Messages  from  the  Father's  lips  to  bear — 

With  heavenly  language  Jesus'  soul  to  cheer. 

Wondering  Peter  well  might  awe-struck  fall, 
Exclaiming,  "  Lord  it  is  good  to  be  here  !" 
Well  might  he  fancy  it  was  heaven  on  earth, 


DEATH  OF  MOSES.  173 

And  wish  that  mount  his  dwelling-place  might  be, 
Forgetful  quite  in  that  sweet  hour  of  joy, 
That  in  a  higher  world  is  brighter  bliss. 

But  hark !  the  rustling  of  their  angel  wings 
I  seem  to  hear,  as  to  the  courts  of  heaven, 
From  Christ's  companionship  they  swiftly  fly, 
While  holy  seraphs  ope  those  pearly  gates, 
And  round  those  messengers  quick  listeners  crowd, 
News  of  the  incarnate  Saviour  God  to  hear. 

And  oh !  methinks  in  loftiest  songs  of  praise 
That  ever  shook  the  battlements  of  heaven, 
Sweet  notes  of  joy  from  Moses'  harp  rang  clear, 
When  the  ascended  Saviour's  work  was  done, 
And  angels  shouted  his  glad  welcome  home. 


174  WELCOME  HOME. 


SoUrmne  gome. 

(WRITTEN  EXPRESSLY  FOR  "THE  BAKER  VOCALISTS.") 

NEAR  to  the  borders  of  that  glorious  land 
Where  myriads  of  bright  shining  seraphs  stand, 
My  fancy  caught  me  up,  while  entered  there 
A  grief- worn  traveler  from  this  world  of  care. 

Then  sweetly  sounding  forth  from  harps  of  gold, 
This  welcome  home  I  heard  in  accents  bold : 
"Blest  spirit,  welcome  home — thy  griefs  are  o'er — 
Oh !  welcome  home !  here  thou  shalt  weep  no  more. 

"  We  welcome  thee  from  earthly  cares  away — 
We  welcome  thee  to  heaven's  unclouded  day — 
We  welcome  thee  to  Jesus'  smile  of  love — 
We  welcome  thee  to  all  the  joys  above." 

The  echoes  of  that  song  so  glad  and  free, 
Were  sweetly  ringing  o'er  heaven's  crystal  sea — 


WELCOME   HOME.  175 

Resounding  througli  the  brightest  bowers  of  bliss, 
Were  notes  ne'er  heard  in  such  a  world  as  this. 

Oh !  welcome  home,  the  glorious  angel  band 
Were  singing,  with  their  golden  harps  in  hand — 
Welcome  home,  welcome  home,  the  Spirit  cried — 
Yes,  welcome,  welcome  home,   spake  forth  the 
Bride. 

A  radiant  crown  thou  shalt  receive  from  me — 
To  joys  I've  purchased,  now  I  welcome  thee, 
The  Saviour  said ;  then  gave  a  heavenly  lyre, 
While  soft  notes  trembled  from  its  golden  wire. 

Then  came  beloved  friends  with  sweetest  lays, 
And  taught  that  spirit's  lips  the  notes  of  praise  I 
Oh !  softly,  clearly  swelled  their  songs  that  night, 
And  radiant  was  that  brow  with  pure  delight. 


176  LINES. 


ADDEESSED  TO  MESSRS  J.  V.  K.  AND  T.  S.  S.,  AND  THEIR 
FAMILIES. 

"  THERE  are  storms  for  summer  weather, 

Lest  the  noontide  shine  too  bright ; 
There  are  branches  in  their  greenness 
Broken  off  to  give  us  light." 

DEATH'S  angel  came  at  night  with  stealthy  tread, 

To  stamp  his  signet  on  an  infant's  brow ; 
Awhile  he  hovered  o'er  the  cradle  bed, 

As  he  were  loth  to  strike  the  fatal  blow, 
And  snatch  for  aye  the  rose  from  smiling  lips, 

And  dim  for  aye  those  gentle  eyes  so  blue ; 
Then  as  the  early  frost  the  flower  nips, 

His  task  he  did,  and  from  that  dwelling  flew. 

While  aching  hearts  mourned  o'er  that  little  one, 
Death  stepped  into  another  dwelling  nigh, 


LINES.  177 

And  on  the  brow  of  infancy  again 
He  placed  his  seal — ah !  what  a  tender  tie 

Was  rudely  severed  by  his  ruthless  hand ! 
And  parents,  brothers,  sisters,  now  weep  o'er 

The  darling,  lifeless  boy,  who  from  their  band 
Was  snatched — whose  smile  may  cheer  them 
never  more. 

Ah  !  never  more  may  joy  its  halo  shed 

Over  the  death-sealed  lip,  and  cheek,  and  eye ; 
Nor  may  those  tiny  feet  with  cautious  tread, 

Their  slow-increasing  strength  again  e'er  try ; 
Nor  gentle  voices  shout  with  childish  glee, 

O'er  some  new  plaything  found — so  lay  away 
Their  little  toys  with  care,  and  let  them  be 

Treasured  remembrancers  for  many  a  day. 

The  gentle  clasp  of  tiny  arms  ye'll  miss — 

The  empty  crib  will  tempt  the  rising  sigh — 
The  little  cheek  that  for  a  good-night  kiss 

Was  raised — ah  1  can  ye  pass  such  memories  by? 
But  hark  1  those  angel  strains — oh !  how  they  rise 

From  lips  of  spirits  Christ  hath  welcomed  home, 
While  seraphs  teach  them  language  of  the  skies, 

As  through  heaven's  glorious  fields  they  roam. 
8* 


178      THOUGHTS  AT  A  SUNSET  HOUB. 

No  pain  may  now  disturb  their  sweet  repose  I 

So  gently,  gently  lay  them  side  by  side, 
Those  little  ones,  where  oft  the  wild  bird  goes 

Her  song  to  sing;  and  mourn  not  that  they  died, 
Since  angel  harps  their  infant  hands  employ, 

And  hand  in  hand,  perchance  they  blissful  roam, 
Their  infant  voices  tuned  to  notes  of  joy, 

Within  the  radiant  mansions  of  their  home. 


at  a  Sunset  lour. 


'TWAS  near  the  sunset  hour,  when  I,  to  read 
Sweet  Nature's  page,  and  meditate  on  heaven, 
Went  forth  unto  the  beauteous  woodland's  shade. 
The  trees  had  late  their  emerald  robes  put  on — 
The  western  sky  a  burnished  sea  of  gold 
Appeared,  on  which  in  characters  most  bold, 
Those  lofty  forest  trees  were  all  embossed  ; 
And  while  the  merry  winds  their  branches  tossed, 


THOUGHTS  AT  A  SUNSET  HOUR.  179 

Their  waving  clusters  shone  like  glittering  gems, 

Placed  with  rare  skill  in  regal  diadems  ; 

And  while  I  gazed,  the  sun  sank  down  to  rest, 

Behind  the  curtain  of  the  glowing  west. 

So  radiant  was  the  gate  through  which  he  passed — 

So  rich  the  stream  of  glory  which  he  cast 

Up  o'er  the  clouds,  and  through  the  tranquil  skies, 

It  seemed  a  pearly  door  of  Paradise 

Was  on  its  hinges  turned,  that  mortal  eyes 

Might  gaze  with  new  delight,  and  buoyant  hope  ; 

And  Nature  seemed  a  mighty  telescope, 

Through  which  I  upward  looked  to  God  and  heaven. 

Until  so  near  they  seemed,  my  feet  almost 

On  Jacob's  ladder  stood,  with  a  bright  host, 

Whose  snowy  wings  seemed  folded  o'er  me  then, 

While  spirit  lips  were  whispering  o'er  the  glen, 

And  holy  angels'  hands  were  clasped  above  me, 

And  sweetly  swelled  the  songs  of  those  who  love  me, 

Who  in  the  glorious  mansions  of  the  skies, 

Have  done  with  earthly  sorrows  and  with  sighs — 

Whose  lofty  anthems  there  forever  rise. 

Ah !  who  would  murmur  when  earth's  ties  are  riven, 
If  they  be  changed  for  love  of  souls  in  heaven  ? 


180      THOUGHTS  AT  A  SUNSET  HOUR. 

Why  wish  to  keep  our  loved  ones  from  their  home, 
That  they  amid  earth's  griefs  with  us  may  roam, 
Since  their  departure  forms  a  golden  tie, 
To  bind  the  spirit  to  the  world  on  high, 
And  they  enduring  bliss  in  heaven  may  share, 
And  love  us  none  the  less  when  they  are  there  ? 
But  yet  Affection's  tender  tear  will  start, 
When  called  with  those  we  fondly  love  to  part, 
Even  when  we  hope  with  them  in  that  bright  land, 
To  chant  the  anthems  of  the  angelic  band. 


ON  A  ROSE.  181 


PLUCKED  IN  A  TENNESSEE  GARDEN  NOV.  16Tn,  AND  RECEIVED  IN 
A  LETTER  FROM  GEORGIA,  IN  DECEMBER. 


DEDICATED  TO   L.   E.    L..   THE   DOXOR. 


SWEET  flower,  thou  comest  a  harbinger  of  good, 
To  whisper  me  of  friendship  tried  and  true — 
To  tell  me  that  a  friend,  though  far  away, 
Doth  kindly  still  remember  me. 

Dear  flower, 

Though  small,  a  valued  gift  thou  art  to  me. 
Imagination  paints  thee  nestling  'mid 
The  trembling  leaves  so  green,  as  thou  wert  when 
A  tiny  bud  that  scarcely  could  be  seen : 
Yet  kindly  cultured  by  some  stranger's  hand, 
When  here,  in  this,  our  colder  northern  clime, 
The  chill  November  winds  were  blowing  wild, 
Enlarging  still,  thy  petals  did  unfold  ; 


182  ON  A  ROSE. 

The  dews  of  Tennessee  then  bathed  thy  brow, 
And  breezes  soft  and  warm  thy  fragrance  bore, 
To  cheer  perchance  a  stranger's  solitude, 
Till  Friendship  plucked  thee  from  thy  parent  stem, 
To  send  to  we  a  grateful  offering. 

In  the  last  month  of  all  the  year  thou  earnest, 
When  trees  of  summer  leaves  were  all  disrobed : 
My  roses  and  my  later  flowers  were  gone ; 
And  when  I  gazed  upon  the  beauteous  rose 
So  fragrant  still,  enfolded  in  the  sheet 
Enwritten  over  by  a  friendly  hand, 
And  on  the  bud  behind  its  petals  hid, 
Which,  half  unfolded  seemed  to  have  a  voice, 
Shall  I  attempt  to  tell  thee,  0  my  friend ! 
How  came  my  muse  on  viewless  wing  to  me 
And  breathing  'mid  the  petals  of  the  flower, 
And  of  the  bud  with  velvet  cheek  so  soft, 
She  seemed  to  tell  me  thou  wert  true,  and  should 
The  friends  of  my  prosperity  depart, 
And  sorrow  come,  thou  wilt  remember  me  ! 
And  when  I  sleep  the  dreamless  sleep  of  death, 
Perchance  to  thee  some  simple  braid  of  hair, 
Or  small  memento  from  thine  absent  friend, 


ON  A  ROSE.  183 

Will  memories  of  the  happy  past  recall, 
When  thou  and  I  together  twined  the  links 
Of  holy  friendship's  chain,  and  burnished  them 
With  happy  hopes  and  pleasant  sympathies. 

Though  now  we're  many  "  weary  leagues"  apart, 
And  may  be  severed  long,  ere  we  shall  meet 
To  twine  the  sweet  and  fadeless  flowers  of  heaven, 
May  I  not  hope  thou  wilt— -forget  me  not  I 


184  LINES. 


WRITTEN  THURSDAY  EVENING,  NOV.  25TH,  1852. 

THANKSGIVING  day  hath  surely  come  again, 

But  not  around  the  fireside  of  our  home, 

Do  loved  ones  meet  to-day  with  cheering  smile, 

As  there  they  met  but  one  short  year  ago, 

When  many  happy  faces  were  around 

My  father's  board,  and  merry  smiles  exchanged. 

In  cheerful  song  the  evening  hours  were  spent : 
Then  parted  we  with  many  a  glad  "  Good  night ;" 
And  yet,  half  sad  we  were,  as  questioned  we, 
"  Shall  we  all  here  with  joy  e'er  meet  again  ?" 

But  why  not  round  that  hearth  meet  we  to-day  ? 
And  why  do  absent  ones  thus  stay  away  ? 
Why  come  they  not  to  greet  with  joyous  smile, 
Dearly-loved  friends  around  our  fireside  now  ? 


LINES.  185 

» 

The  sadness  of  their  hearts  tempts  them  to  stay — 

Nor  much  wish  we  who  are  at  home  to-day 

That  they  would  come ;  for  oh  I   how  sad  'twould 

be 

To  miss  the  voice  which  loudest  swelled  in  song — • 
To  feel  that  from  our  band  the  gayest  one 
Hath  gone,  and  ne'er  may  meet  with  us  again ! 
For  ah  !  'twas  less  than  two  short  weeks  ago, 
We  watched  her  shortening  breath  and  pallid  face? 
And  saw  her  dark  blue  eyes  grow  dim  in  death ; 
And  near  the  close  of  a  lone  autumn  day, 
They  laid  her  down  in  her  deep  grave  to  rest, 
And  heaped  the  cold,  cold  earth  upon  her  breast ; 
And  painful  recollections  thrill  our  hearts, 
And  deep,  yea,  deeper  would  they  throb  with  grief, 
Were  we  whom  she  hath  left  together  now — 
And  therefore,  thus  we  are  apart  to-day. 

Alone  I  sit,  where  but  a  little  more 
Than  one  brief  year  ago,  with  friends  around, 
My  sister  stood,  a  gay  and  happy  bride, 
With  heart  brimful  of  sweet  and  joyous  hopes, 
While  bright  anticipations  lured  her  on, 


186  LINES. 

» 

And  made  her  step  more  light,  her  smile  more 

gay. 

And  while  my  blinding  tears,  and  trembling  hand. 
Almost  forbid  that  I  should  longer  write, 
A  gladdening  echo  from  the  spirit  land, 
Seems  whispering  to  me  'mid  my  loneliness, 
Of  bright  joys,  and  sweeter  far  than  earthly  songs — 
Of  sweet  realities,  exceeding  far 
The  highest  hopes  of  earth — 'and  oh !  the  thought, 
"  My  sister's  with  that  angel  throng,"  doth  make 
The  pang  of  separation  less  severe. 

Wearied  with  earth,  and  all  its  pains  and  griefs, 
She  longed  for  refuge  in  the  silent  grave, 
Till  sweetly  o'er  the  darkened  clouds,  arose 
The  Star  of  Bethlehem,  to  cheer  her  life, 
And  to  illume  her  "pathway  to  the  tomb ;" 
And  then,  amid  her  pains,  she  chose  to  live ; 
Yet,  leaning  on  her  gracious  Saviour's  arm, 
She  dreaded  not  Death's  fearful,  swelling  wave, 
Nor  needed  it  the  "  eloquence  of  words," 
To  tell  the  spirit's  joy,  when  calmly  gazed 
Her  dying  eyes  in  mine. 


LINES.  187 

I  could  but  fancy 

That  when  her  ears  were  deaf  to  earthly  sounds, 
Far  sweeter  sounds  upon  her  spirit's  ear 
Were  breaking,  from  the  harps  of  heaven's  bright 

throng — 

That  then  her  half-closed  eyes,  already  gazed 
Upon  the  beauties  of  that  glorious  land ; 
And  when  the  spirit  took  its  flight,  it  left 
A  joyful  impress  on  the  countenance, 
So  peaceful,  beautifully  calm  in  death. 
And  when,  in  wakeful  watches  of  that  night, 
I  seemed  to  hearken  to  her  swelling  song, 
While  she,  with  gentle  angels,  winged  her  way, 
O'er  fields  so  beautiful — through  skies  so  fair, 
I  almost  wished  that  I  might  leave  this  earth, 
To  worship  with  those  glorious  angels  there. 


188  THE   MARTYR  BIRD. 


Startjir  $!  trtr. 


As  thoughtfully  I  sat,  at  twilight  hour, 
Beneath  the  news-fraught  telegraphic  wire, 
My  heart  was  stirred  with  memories  of  the  past — 
With  memories  of  sweet  joys  too  bright  to  last : 
Then  quickly  twanged  the  wires — for  joyful  news 
Was  on  them  borne — but  still  I  sadly  mused, 
Until  a  little  bird  of  plumage  fair, 
From  off  the  wire,  went  whizzing  through  the  air. 
I  quickly  went,  and  raised  the  pretty  thing — 
Its  little  heart  had  ceased  to  throb  and  sing, 
And  yet  so  quick  its  life  had  passed  away, 
I  almost  thought  I  still  might  hear  its  lay, 
For  yet  a  life-like  warmth  was  in  its  frame  I 
But  ah !  it  never  more  might  sing  again, 
For  blood  was  slowly  streaming  from  its  beak, 
And  this  did  sure  my  sympathy  bespeak. 


THE  MARTYR  BIRD.  189 

Then  came  the  Saviour's  gracious  words  to  me, 
Of  sparrows  one  might  for  a  farthing  buy, 
And  yet  not  one  unto  the  ground  might  fall, 
Without  His  gracious  care  who  knoweth  all. 

I  heard  the  Saviour's  kindly  words  of  cheer — 
He  whispered  to  my  spirit,  "  Never  fear  I" 
Then  Hope,  sweet  bird  of  heaven,  on  golden  wing 
Flew  o'er  me,  (oh !  how  sweetly  she  did  sing !) 
While  Faith,  a  heavenly  bird  of  snowy  plume, 
The  darkness  of  my  present  did  illume  I 
And  oh !  such  gentleness  was  in  her  eye, 
As  it  had  borrowed  beauty  from  the  sky, 
While  up  so  high  on  buoyant  wing  she  flew, 
And  plucked  a  leaf  of  living  green,  which  grew 
Upon  an  olive  tree  of  Paradise, 
Then  quickly  came  to  me,  and  whispering,"  Peace," 
She  laid  that  healing  leaf  upon  my  heart, 
And  soon  it  healed  the  canker  of  Grief's  dart, 
And  round  my  future  shone  a  light  from  heaven, 
And  joyful  musings  on  that  Summer  even, 
Expelled  each  thought  of  past  and  present  woe, 
Save  that  I  grieved  the  bird  for  me  must  go 


190  THE  MAKTYR  BIRD. 

From  loving  mates,  and  joyous  life  away, 
At  the  sweet  close  of  that  bright  summer  day. 

Sweet  Martyr  Bird,  thy  gently  beaming  eye, 
Which  death  not  yet  had  dimmed,  spake  out  to 

me, 

A  mild  reproach  for  unbelief  of  the  past, 
And  bade  me  fear  no  future  adverse  blast ; 
But  leaning  on  "  that  arm  which  never  fails," 
Look  up,  whene'er  adversity  assails — 
Sweetly  resigned,  lift  up  a  tearless  eye, 
And  kiss  the  rod,  nor  ask  my  Father,  "  Why." 


TO  THE  "BAKER  VOCALISTS."  191 


t|e  "IJaktr  JTotalists." 


PRESENTED  WITH  A  BOUQUET  OF  NATURAL  FLOWERS. 

w 

OF  lovely  Autumn's  fair  and  fragrant  flowers, 
A  friendly  hand  for  you  a  wreath  hath  twined, 
Hoping  ye'll  sing  sweet  songs  in  Heaven's  bright 

bowers, 
And  that  ye'll  there  a  home  eternal  find. 

Now  with  the  rain-drops  on  their  blushing  cheeks, 
These  "  sages  ephemeral  "  to  you  I  send, 
And  fancy  ye  will  list  their  voices  sweet  — 
And  they  will  whisper  of  some  absent  friend. 

For  what  like  this  angelic  alphabet 
With  which  our  country's  "hills  and  plains"  are  writ,* 
Doth  speak  of  childhood's  home,  and  friends  away, 
E'en  when  far  from  our  home  and  friends  we  stray  ? 

*  "  Mrs.  Child  beautifully  says  that  she  has  often  thought  that 
flowers  were  the  alphabet  of  angels,  wherewith  they  write  on  hilla 
and  plains  mysterious  truths.  " 


192  SYMPATHY. 


TO  MY  DEAR  UNCLE  AND  AUNT,  MR.  AND  MRS.  I.  B., 
THESE  LINES  ARE  AFFECTIONATELY  DEDICATED. 

THESE  lines  to  you,  dear  friends,  I  dedicate, 
And  may  we  meet  within  Heaven's  pearly  gate, 
And  sweetest  sympathy  of  spirits  share, 
Who  have  a  glorious  home  forever  there! 

SWEET  sympathy  I  what  purer  offering 
Can  holy  friendship  to  the  spirit  bring  ? 
Thy  heart  is  bounding  with  some  secret  joy, 
Or  with  some  secret  grief  thy  bosom  heaves  1 
Methinks  a  wish  upon  that  sigh  is  breathed — 
A  wish  for  a  kind  friend  to  care  for  thee  I 
Hearest  not  an  angel  whisper,  "  Trust  in  God, 
For  he,  thy  Heavenly  Friend,  can  aid  supply  ?" 
Oh !  trust  in  Christ — his  sympathy  how  strong ! 
For  well  remembers  he  the  griefs  of  earth — 


SYMPATHY.  193 

Griefs  of  Grethsemane  and  Calvary ! 

Then  in  the  balance  lay  thy  griefs  with  his, 

And  let  thine  aching  heart  lean  on  that  Friend. 

In  hours  of  grief  and  joy,  oh  I  trust  in  Heaven  1 

In  joy  will  not  thy  Saviour  sympathize — 

That  Friend  who  left  a  throne  of  purest  bliss, 

To  purchase  ever-during  bliss  for  thee  ? 

But  yet  I  blame  thee  not  if  thou  dost  seek 

Kind  sympathy  from  earthly  friends.     Ah  1  no. 

E'en  Jesus,  who,  had  he  the  favor  asked, 

A  legion  of  bright  angels  might  have  won, 

In  moments  of  dread  agony  to  him 

To  minister,  craved  human  sympathy, 

And  from  his  earnest  pleadings  with  the  Father, 

He  turned  in  bitter  grief  to  those  he  loved, 

And  when   he  found   them   sleeping,  mournful 

asked : 

"  Could  ye  not  watch  with  me  one  hour  ?" 

But  soon 

A  holy  angel  stooped  from  Paradise, 
To  wipe  the  bloody  drops  from  His  pure  brow, 
And  bathe  it  with  the  healing  balm  of  love. 
What  was  that  angel's  name,  I  may  not  tell — 
But  I  a  fancy  have,  it  might  have  been 
9 


194  SYMPATHY. 

One  of  those  celestial  ones  that  came  to  him  ; 
Appareled  in  the  glorious  robes  of  Heaven, 
When  an  exceeding  and  unearthly  brightness, 
A  heavenly  lustre  his  own  raiment  wore. 
Perchance  it  might  have  been  good  Samuel, 
Perchance  some  other  holy  faithful  seer, 
That  in  the  troublous  days  of  Israel  lived. 

Methinks  it  must  have  been  one  who  on  earth 
Had  lived,  and  suffered  sore  temptation  here, 
And  through  the  Saviour's  interceding  grace 
Had  won  the  garb  of  immortality, 
And  dwelt  in  happy  fields  of  Paradise, 
That  then  and  there  came  down  to  comfort  him  ; 
For  how  could  one  who  from  the  first  glad  hour 
Of  his  existence  bright,  had  had  a  share 
In  the  uninterrupted  bliss  of  Heaven, 
In  moments  so  dark,  sympathy  afford 
Equal  to  his  need,  who  his  soul  poured  forth, 
When  burdened  with  the  anguish  of  our  sins, 
He  seemed  'reft  of  the  love  of  earth  and  Heaven  ? 
And  yet  we  know  not  but  there  might  have  been 
A  stronger,  holier,  celestial  one, 


SYMPATHY.  195 

Than  any  who  on  earth  had  ever  lived, 
And  one  more  fit  this  errand  to  perform. 

Whether  it  was  one  whose  bright  birthplace  was 

Heaven, 

Or  one  who  there  to  dwell  from  earth  had  soared, 
'Twas  doubtless  one  who  best  could  comfort  him : 
And  when  our  friends  of  watching  all  are  weary, 
With  eyes  bedimmed  all  soundly  are  asleep, 
And  Pain  or  Sorrow  holds  us  waking  still, 
Christ,  more  than  angel,  stoops  to  comfort  us, 
And  with  the  cordial  of  his  promises, 
Our  aching  hearts  he  oft  revivifies, 
For  he  has  felt  the  need  of  sympathy. 

For  when  in  Pilate's  judgment-hall  he  sat, 
Surrounded  by  a  cruel,  murderous  throng — 
By  every  earthly  friend  forsaken  there ; 
And  when  thief-like  suspended  on  the  cross, 
With  sinews  of  his  hands  and  feet  crushed  through, 
With  a  rude  throng  e'en  then  reviling  Him ; 
E'en  then  in  that  most  bitter  hour  of  grief, 
When  with  his  eyes  upraised  imploringly, 
Toward  the  Heaven  he  had  in  pity  left, 


196  SYMPATHY. 

That  pure,  yet  deeply-anguished  heart  shrieked  out: 
"  My  God,  my  God,  why  hast  thou  forsaken  me  ?" 
Oh !  felt  he  not  the  need  of  sympathy  ? 

Oh !  holy  joy,  the  oil  of  sympathy, 
To  pour  o'er  hearts  with  sorrow  over-burdened ! 
'Tis  joy  like  His  who  left  the  throne  of  Heaven, 
The  sick  to  heal,  the  widow's  tear  to  dry ; 
Yea,  more,  our  souls  to  save  from  deepest  woe, 
And  ransom  them  with  his  own  precious  life. 

It  needed  not  a  platted  crown  of  thorns, 
That  brow  to  pierce,  already  jeweled  o'er 
With  "  rubies  of  his  own  most  precious  blood ;" 
But  Jewish  malice  yet  insatiate, 
Upon  a  brow  so  pure  that  crown  doth  place  { 
Yet  midst  His  griefs,  behold  what  love  we  see ! 
Oft  is  his  hand  outsretched  in  kindest  healing, 
And  oft  his  eyes  o'erflow  with  tender  feeling. 

Then  let  each  humble  follower  of  his, 

In  words  and  acts  of  sympathy  abound ; 

For  even  tears  of  sympathy  dim  not 

The  beauteous  gem  of  Love,  but  brightly  still 

It  glows,  beneath  their  holy  influence. 


TO  WILLIAM  AND  ELIZABETH.  197 


C0  Sttilltam 

(PRESENTED  AT  THEIR  BRIDAL.) 

AFFECTION'S  silken  band  your  hearts  hath  bound. 

Strong  tie !  and  with  the  morn  of  youth  unclouded, 

In  life's  rough,  changeful  pathway  ye  do  hope 

Together  joyfully  to  travel  on. 

Heaven  grant  that  hope  may  not  uprooted  be, 

Nor  by  chill  blast  of  sorrow  withered  soon. 

Let  each  to  each  be  next  to  God  beloved, 

Yet  see  ye  love  not  to  idolatry ! 

Forget  not  that  the  spirit's  casket  frail, 

Sooner  or  later  must  be  laid  aside — 

Forget  not  thornless  blessings  bloom  alone 

In  a  fairer  chine — yea,  bloom  in  Paradise. 

Long  time  may  ye  together  walk  along ! 
Your    pathway  with  bright  flowers  of  joy  be 
strewed ; 


198  TO  WILLIAM  AND   ELIZABETH. 

And  when  each  tie  which  binds  to  earth  is  loosed, 
May  your  redeemed  souls  be  upward  borne, 
To  pastures  of  the  heavenly  Shepherd's  land  I 

If  ye  by  death  shall  separated  be, 

Aad  one  be  left,  the  other's  loss  to  mourn, 

Heaven  grant  the  one  who  first  from  earth  shall 

go, 
May  die  with  hope  of  a  reunion  blest — 

To  an  eternal  mansion  be  upborne, 
To  wait  in  bliss  until  the  other  come. 

And  may  the  gentle  Shepherd  of  the  skies 
Sustain  the  one  who  shall  be  left  alone, 
Life's  ever-changeful  pathway  here  to  tread ; 
And  when  life's  sorrows  with  that  one  be  o'er, 
May  the  freed  spirit  soar  to  Paradise, 
Throughout  eternity  its  joys  to  share. 


FAREWELL  TO  THE   BLUES.  199 


Jfateteli  to  tfa 

^  (5 


FOR  three  successive  days  and  nights, 

A  gloomy  troop  of  ancient  wights 

Known  by  the  name  of  BLUES, 

And  clad  in  sable  hues, 

(Who  with  their  dismal  train 

Bring  many  a  fancied  pain,) 

"Were  reveling  round  my  brain, 

While  I  half  welcome  made  them, 

And  by  my  listening  paid  them. 

Sometimes  I  thought  to  scare  or  scold  them, 

And  then  again  I'd  almost  hold  them. 

So  on  the  tedious  moments  flew, 

And  my  poor  heart  more  cheerless  grew, 

Until  at  length  my  folly  seeing, 

The  Blues  and  I  were  disagreeing, 

And  I  formed  a  firm  resolve  and  free, 

That  they  no  more  my  guests  should  be  ; 

For  before  so  pitiless  a  race, 

Bright  joys  were  flying  off  apace. 


200  FAKEWELL  TO  THE  BLUES. 

So  I  bade  them  "  Good  night," 
When  the  stars  -were  all  bright, 
And  my  heart  grew  so  light 
That  I  laughed  outright, 
As  the  elfins  took  fright ; 
For  I  shook  my  head, 
And  with  scampering  tread 
In  a  trice  they  all  fled : 
But  remaining,  I  found 
A  bold  elf  looking  round 
With  an  impudent  air, 
As  if  wondering  I'd  dare 
Thus  to  drive  out  a  hoary 
Elfin  chief  from  his  glory. 


He  was  loth  to  take  leave, 

And  "  I  laughed  in  my  sleeve," 

As  so  silent  and  sullen, 

He  stood  straight  as  a  mullen, 

As  though  my  command  he  ill  brooked, 

While  over  his  shoulder  he  looked, 

Yet  dared  he  not  face  him  about, 

Lest  quickly  I'd  put  him  to  rout 


FAEEWELL  TO  THE  BLUES.        201 

Not  much  should  I  wonder  to  hear 

That  the  goblin  has  vanished  in  air ; 

For  I  hope  none  so  foolish  will  be 

As  to  listen  at  all  to  his  plea, 

Or  to  give  an  admittance  or  fee, 

To  so  ugly  a  creature  as  he : 

And  I'm  sure  if  they  don't,  he  will  die, 

For  his  pride  it  will  mortify, 

All  cheerless  and  friendless  to  roam, 

With  neither  companion  nor  home. 

Should  the  Blues  on  you  call,  don't  endure 

Their  sad  tortures  an  hour,  for  I'm  sure 

That  they  all  will  right  quick  "take  French 

leave," 

If  our  hearts  grateful  notes  warmly  breathe ; 
And  glad  praise  is  a  debt  that  we  owe 
For  the  good  that  we  share  here  below, 
And  a  debt  that  we  surely  don't  pay, 
"When  the  genii  called  Blues  we  obey. 
9* 


202  VISIONAKIES. 


"  I  -will  not  say  scorn  is  my  fete, 
Lest  I  be  proud,  suffering  the  same 
With  those  who  live  in  deathless  fame." 

"  He  who  ascends  to  mountain-tops  shall  find 

The  loftiest  peaks  most  wrapped  in  clouds  and  snow. 
He  who  surpasses  or  subdues  mankind, 

Must  look  down  on  the  hate  of  those  below. 
Though  high  above  the  sun  of  glory  glow, 

And  far  beneath  the  earth  and  ocean  spread, 
Round  him  are  icy  rocks,  and  loudly  blow 

Contending  tempests  on  his  naked  head, 
And  thus  reward  the  toils  which  to  their  summits  led." 

COLUMBUS  dreamed  of  a  land  beyond  the  main, 
And  longed  that  wondrous  western  land  to  see ; 

He  thought  assistance  of  a  Queen  to  gain, 

And  hoped  her  views  would  with  his  own  agree  : 

But  she  had  other  thoughts,  and  schemes,  and  fears 
"With  zeal  then  plunged  he  into  battle-strife, 


VISIONARIES.  203 

And  saw  the  sighing  Moor*  his  crown  resign, 

And  hoped  he  might  at  length  with  words  condign 

Convince  his  dreams  were  not  with  folly  rife. 

It  took  the  Spanish  council  full  three  years 

To  prove  he  was  a  visionary  fool : 

This  proved,  they  thought  he  might  as  well  "  keep 

cool." 

His  mule  he  mounted,  and  with  proud  disdain, 
He  turned  his  back  upon  the  court  of  Spain ; 
But  friends  for  him  their  eloquence  employ — 
And  back  to  court  he  conies  to  learn  with  joy, 
His  long-postponed  petition  is  not  vain  ; 
But  Isabella,  Castile's  lauded  Queen, 
Quite  independent  of  King  Ferdinand, 
"Will  presently  send  forth  her  sure  command, 
That  ships  and  crew  be  found  for  him  amain. 
The  "  bounding  billows"  heave — adieu  to  Spain  I 
A  buoyant  soul  sends  up  a  joyous  strain — 
Cheerily,  bravely  on  awhile  they  go — 
Now  threatening  and  desponding  is  the  crew : 
At  length  they  see,  they  see  the  promised  land — 
On  terra  firma  now  once  more  they  stand ; 

*  Boabdil,  the  King  of  Granada.    The  rock  on  which  he  stood  to 
bewail  his  fate,  is  called,  "  The  sigh  of  the  Moor." 


204  VISIONARIES. 

Again  they  ride  the  heaving,  billowy  main — 
Once  more  they  stand  upon  the  shores  of  Spain, 
And  Ferdinand  and  his  delighted  Queen, 
Exulting  bless  Columbus  for  his  dream. 

And  Fulton  dreamed  a  steam-horse  trod  the  waves : 
He  dreamed  and  toiled  while  wise  men  gazed  with 

scorn. 

At  length  proud  Hudson's  tide  a  steamboat  laves, 
But  strange  to  say,  the  steam-horse  will  not  plow  I 
A  failure ! — ha !  ha !  ha ! — ha !  ha !  ha !  h-a  ! 
Eesounds  along  the  shore  ;  but  yet  again 
Assembles  on  that  shore  a  numerous  throng, 
"While  proudly  sweeps  the  gallant  boat  along, 
As  though  by  some  strange,  unseen  hand  propelled ! 
With  honest  pride  the  toiler's  bosom  swelled  ; 
And  pray  when  would  have  come  "this  age  of  steam," 
Had  it  not  been  for  Robert  Fulton's  dream  ? 

And  Clinton,  too,  poor  visionary  soul, 
Who  strangely  thought  to  serve  his  age  and  state  I 
Why  would  he  not  be  wise,  and  hold  his  tongue, 
When  Jefferson,  who  had  been  a  President, 
Assured  him  he  was  quite  beyond  his  tune  ? 


VISIONAKIES.  205 

But  willful  Clinton  (!)  the  "big  ditch"  must  see, 
And  Jefferson,  quite  penitent,  confessed 
Himself  was  fifty  years  behind  his  time ; 
And  they  who  deemed  him  visionary  then, 
Praise  persevering  Clinton  for  his  dream. 

And  Bunyan,  too,  forever  dreaming,  dreaming, 
"Why  would  he  let  his  brain  be  ever  teeming 
With  such  strange  visions  in  his  prison-cell  ? 
Far  better  otherwise  employ  his  time, 
Than  be  thus  ever  dreaming,  dreaming,  dreaming ! 
So  doubtless  thought  King  Charles,  who  would  not 

"hear 

The  tinker  prate,"  and  so  perchance  thought  Hale, 
And  kindlier  souls,  who  deemed  his  dreamy  book 
Unfit  to  publish,  and  to  circulate. 

But  ah  !  who,  who  can  tell 
How  many  through  the  golden  city's  gate 
Shall  pass,  whom  angels  ne'er  would  have  convoyed 
Up,  up  before  the  rainbow-shaded  throne, 
Had  it  not  been  for  pious  Bunyan's  dreams  ? 

And  Milton  ?    Friends  neglected,  foes  despised  him ; 
They  gave  him  not  a  place  among  the  stars ! 


206  VISIONARIES. 

WHY  SHOULD  THEY  ?  He  was  blind,  and  old,  and  poor  I 

But  "England's  noblest  bard,"  in  penury 

Earned  him  a  fame  as  lasting  as  the  hills, 

And  though  the  would-be  wise  then  scorned  his  toil, 

The  younger  sons  of  Adam  Milton  bless ; 

With  praise  befitting  speak  his  honored  name, 

And  twine  their  laurel  wreaths  around  his  tomb. 

Ay,  men  of  every  age  and  every  clime, 

Whose  dreams  the  wise  have  deemed  almost  a  crime, 

Have  lived  a  blessing  to  all  future  time. 

Then  fear  not !  if  your  dream  be  good  and  true, 

Work  on,  though  now  you  find  believers  few ! 

WORK  ON  1  work  on  t  It  may  be  thus  with  you. 

May,  185T. 


BE   KIND.  207 


BE  kind  to  the  aged,  for  when  he  was  young, 
His  heart  was  as  joyous  as  thine  ; 

But  now  he  is  feeble,  with  grief  'twill  be  wrung, 
Shouldst  thou  to  unkindness  incline. 

Be  kind  to  the  suffering,  for  when  thou  art  ill, 
How  tender  the  heart  now  so  strong ; 

A  word  of  unkindness  the  spirit  may  chill — 
Its  pains  and  its  griefs  may  prolong. 

Be  kind  to  the  stranger,  for  oft  unawares, 

An  angel  to  thee  in  disguise 
A  stranger  may  come — when  thy  bounty  he  shares, 

Rich  blessings  descend  from  the  skies. 

Be  kind  to  the  orphan,  for  wert  thou  bereft 
Of  parents  so  dear,  and  alone, 


208  BE   KIND. 

Thy  heart,  now  so  light,  would  be  sad,  wert  thou 

left 
O'er  earth  ever  friendless  to  roam. 

Then  let  the  lone  orphan,  the  aged,  and  ill, 

In  thee  find  a  friend  ever  kind 
For  surely  a  God-given  right  have  they  still, 

To  hope  in  thee  mercy  to  find. 

Be  kind,  0  ye  strangers,  ye  orphans,  and  old ! 

For  thus  ye  repay  the  kind  care, 
Of  those  who  their  love  far  more  precious  than 
gold 

Bestow  while  your  burdens  they  share. 

Be  kind,  O  ye  suffering,  ye  sorrowing,  and  sick  I 
Be  patient,  and  trust  in  your  God ; 

For  though  the  dark  clouds  round  your  path  gather 

thick, 
'Tis  the  path  your  Kedeemer  hath  trod. 


HOPE.  209 


Ojtt. 


HOPE  !  hope !  it  is  thy  privilege  here — 

Though  hopes  be  often  crushed,  hope  on  I 
"Pis  better  far  to  hope  than  fear : 

Let  not  Despair  with  visage  wan, 
E'er  find  an  entrance  to  thy  heart  ; 

But  guard  thou  well  that  citadel, 
And  let  sweet  Hope,  with  guileless  art, 

Keep  and  defend  its  gateway  well. 

For  Hope  hath  eyes  of  loveliest  hue, 

Which  joyously  gaze  on  the  morrow — 
She  tinges  darkest  clouds  with  blue, 

And  gladness  sees  amid  our  sorrow : 
On  buoyant  wing  through  clouds  she  soars, 

While  burdened  souls  by  her  upborne, 
Can  smile  when  loud  the  tempest  roars, 

And  cherished  joys  from  them  are  torn. 


210  THE  SITTER  FOR  A  MINIATURE, 


itter  for  a 


WHEN  first  I  sat,  there  was  gladness  in  my  heart, 

Joy  in  my  -eye  —  a  smile  upon  my  lip  — 

For  then  my  thoughts  were  with  a  friend  most  dear, 

And  my  soul's  joy  was  pictured  in  my  face. 

But  now  that  he  has  gone,  why  sit  I  here, 

For  art  with  wondrous  skill  to  stamp  my  face, 

For  those  to  gaze  upon  who'll  lightly  prize  it  ? 

Although  his  lips  ne'er  spoke  to  me  of  love, 
I  read  it  in  his  eye  so  mild  and  blue, 
And  gave  a  heart  brimful  of  love  to  him, 
Though  to  each  other  we  ne'er  spake  of  love, 
Save  by  such  looks  as  each  believed  were  true. 

Just  at  the  moment  when  I  prized  him  most, 
Yet  feared  to  give  the  glance  which  told  my  lovo, 
Lest  I  to  others  should  my  thoughts  reveal, 
I  turned  aside,  and  gazed  another  way, 


THE  SITTEK  FOR  A  MINIATURE.  211 

And  feigned  a  careless  air,  as  though  he  were 
But  like  the  crowd  which  then  surrounded  me. 

On  me  awhile  he  gazed — then  turned  away, 
And  as  I  watched  his  quick,  receding  step, 
Ah !  little  deemed  I  that  I  ne'er  should  meet 
Him  in  whose  kindly  smile  my  heart  rejoiced, 
Till  on  the  shores  of  New  Jerusalem, 
We  meet  with  angels  round  the  throne  of  God  I 
But  ah !  he  thought  me  cold,  deceitful,  too, 
And  so  he  fled,  and  ne'er  we  met  again, 
And  I  may  love  but  with  a  sister's  love, 
For  ah !  another  on  his  bosom  leans, 
And  I  am  left  alone,  sad  tears  to  weep ; 
Yea,  bitter  tears  in  deepest  solitude. 

Oh !  bitter  grief  the  waters  pure  to  drain 

From  out  Love's  fount,  while  yet  the  loved  one  lives, 

Or  feel  that  he  forgets — or  worse — he  scorns 

The  heart  which  once  I  hoped  that  he  would  prize. 

Might  I  but  hear  him  whisper,  "  I  forgive," 
'Twould  pluck  a  thorn  from  out  my  pillow  now. 
But  no !  he  never  spake  to  me  his  love, 


212  THE  SITTER  FOR  A  MINIATURE. 

Save  by  his  loving  smile,  and  kindly  glance, 
And  by  the  gentle  pressure  of  my  hand, 
And  I  may  never  ask  the  boon  I  crave. 

I  blame  him  not,  for  he  was  ever  kind — 
But  sure  he  thought  me  cold — deceitful,  too  I 
But  had  he  known  my  depth  of  love,  I'm  sure 
He  never  would  have  thus  forsaken  me  I 
But  oh !  his  image  on  my  heart  is  stamped, 
And  day  by  day  his  name  is  on  my  lips, 
And  I  remember  him  at  morn  and  eve, 
And  nightly  I  will  pray  for  him  and  his : 
And  when  the  Sabbath's  twilight  hour  so  sweet, 
Doth  close  the  happy  day  that  speaks  of  heaven, 
I'll  wish  and  hope  that  there  we  meet  again, 
And  that  I  there  may  know  that  I'm  forgiven. 

My  heart  is  pained,  and  I  can  say  no  more, 
But  note  ye  down  what  here  I  now  have  said, 
And  when  the  clay-cold  earth  lies  on  my  breast, 
If  then  ye  will,  go  give  it  to  the  world. 

Oh !  might  I  hope  that  then  he  would  oft  come, 
And  on  my  "burial  mould"  would  weep  such  tears 


THE  SITTER  FOR  A  MINIATURE.  213 

As  gentle  brothers  weep  on  sisters'  graves, 
How  would  this  aching  heart  grow  light  with  joy  I 
But  now  I  scarce  can  hope,  for  much  I  fear 
So  false  he  deemed  me,  that  he'll  scorn  to  weep 
The  tears  of  memory,  where  my  ashes  sleep. 

'Twould  glad  my  heart  amid  my  loneliness, 
If  I  might  know  that  thus  he'd  kindly  come 
And  think  of  me  but  with  a  brother's  love — 
But  oh !  I  may  not  know,  and  I  will  strive 
To  bow  me  to  my  Heavenly  Father's  will : 
Then  hush,  my  aching  heart  I     Be  still — be  still  I 


214   THE  YOUNG  MOTHER  TO  HER  INFANT. 


to  \w  f  itfattt 


MY  precious  babe,  what  blessing  sh.aU  I  crave 

For  thee,  who  e'en  thine  own  wants  knowest  not  ? 

Shall  I  ask  costly  pearls  from  ocean's  bed, 

To  glisten  brightly  in  thy  shining  hair  ? 

Shall  I  ask  for  thee  a  royal  diadem, 

A  golden  throne  as  rich  as  Solomon's, 

And  humble  suppliants  round  that  throne  to  bow  ? 

Large  coffers  ever  full  of  richest  gold, 

A  beauteous  earthly  palace  for  thy  home, 

With  cooling  streams  and  fountains  near  ; 

Much  praise  from  human  lips,  thine  ear  to  flatter, 

That  thy  name  on  history's  yet  unread  page, 

May  be  enrolled  among  the  proud  of  earth  ? 

Shall  I  ask  blessings  such  as  these  for  thee  ? 

Will  they  bring  peace  on  earth,  or  joy  in  heaven  ? 

Ah  no  1  far  richer  gifts  than  these,  sweet  babe, 
1  crave  from  Israel's  covenant-keeping  God  ! 


THE  YOUNG  MOTHEK  TO  HER  INFANT.   215 

A  Saviour's  love — a  pearl  of  priceless  worth, 
In  life  and  death  to  wear  upon  thy  heart — 
A  strong  desire  to  do  thy  Maker's  will ; 
Long  as  to  thee  He  life  on  earth  shall  give, 
The  smile  of  God  thy  days  with  joy  to  crown, 
A  mansion  bright  in  heaven's  beauteous  land, 
To  be  thine  everlasting,  happy  home — 
A  glorious  crown — a  gift  from  heaven's  King — 
A  place  to  bow  before  his  golden  throne, 
And  join  the  alleluias  of  the  blest 
Inside  the  pearly  gates  of  Paradise. 

Such  blessings,  purchased  by  Immanuel, 

I  ask  of  heaven's  King  for  my  darling  one : 

And  Father,  unto  me  thy  blessing  grant, 

To  whom  this  dear  immortal  hath  been  given, 

That  I  in  wisdom's  paths  may  live  to  thee, 

And  guide  this  young  expanding  mind  to  heaven  1 

Aug.  1848. 


216  "GOD  IS  LOVE." 


is  f  ok." 


O'ER  lakes  the  valley  girds, 
The  morning  song  of  birds, 
Though  not  in  high-toned  words, 
Is  echoing,  "  God  is  love." 

The  sea's  wild  dash  and  roar, 
That  sweeps  the  bounded  shore, 
Speaks  of  the  Almighty's  power, 
Eepeating,  "  God  is  love." 

When  comes  the  "  merry  spring," 
The  field  and  woodlands  ring, 
And  rills  low  murmuring, 
Each  whisper,  "  God  is  love." 

When  Summer  flowers  unfold, 
And  fields  are  dressed  in  gold, 
And  emerald  robes  as  of  old, 
Each  breeze  sighs,  "  God  is  love." 


"GOD  is  LOVE."  217 

When  "Autumn's  lengthening  days" 
The  "  God  of  harvest"  praise, 
Let  joyful  hearts  upraise 
The  song  that  God  is  love. 

Now  from  the  forests  tall, 
The  fading  leaves  do  fall, 
And  gently  say  to  all, 
"  Seek  ye  a  home  above" 

Cold  Winter  comes  at  last, 
And  the  loud  whirlwind's  blast, 
Tells  us  the  year  is  past, 
But  doubt  not  "  God  is  love." 

The  varied  seasons  each, 
Their  own  sweet  lessons  teach, 
Which  hardened  hearts  oft  reach, 
Convincing,  God  is  love. 

When  tempest-tossed  on  Sorrow's  tide, 
'Tis  sweet  to  hope  the  storm  to  outride, 
For  Christ  will  grief's  rough  billows  chide, 
And  teach  us  that  our  God  is  love. 

10 


218  THE  DYING  WIFE. 


ife. 


MUST  I  of  my  beloved  be  bereft? 

The  heavenly  angels  wait  thy  coming,  love ; 
They'll  upward  bear  thee  on  their  snow-white  wings, 

And  welcome  thee  to  blissful  fields  above. 

Yet  it  is  hard  Love's  strongest  ties  to  break — 
Hard  with  the  dearly-loved  of  earth  to  part ; 

E'en  though  we  for  a  happier  meeting  hope, 

Where  words  of  parting  ne'er  can  grieve  the  heart. 

The  Saviour  calls  me,  love,  and  I  must  go, 

Must  leave  thee,  dearest,  best  beloved  of  earth — 

Must  leave  my  gentle  babe :  oh !  teach  her,  love, 
That  she  may  early  learn  Eeligion's  worth. 

My  dearest,  hither  bring  our  darling  babe, 
And  let  me  print  a  dying  mother's  kiss ; 

And  on  my  cheek  let  me  feel  thy  breath  once  more, 
For  I  am  sure  I'm  near  the  land  of  bliss. 


LET  ME  GO   HOME.  219 

She  spake  no  more,  yet  love  beamed  from  her  eye, 
Till  sweetly  slept  the  mother  and  the  wife ; 

Then  o'er  her  features  played  a  lovely  smile, 
As  though  she  sweetly  dreamed  a  dream  of  life. 


j§a     ame* 


"  I  DID  not  dream,  but  yet  fantastic  thought 
Wrought  such  wild  changes  on  the  spirit's  harp 
It  seemed  that  slumber  ruled." 

A  PALACE  bright  before  my  vision  rose, 
'Twas  beautiful  as  aught  on  earth  could  be  : 
Affection's  holy  light  was  shining  there, 
Bright  flowers  were  gayly  blooming  all  around, 
And  every  earthly  wish  was  gratified 
In  that  sweet,  lovely  home  so  wondrous  fair. 
It  seemed  that  heaven  a  radiance  had  lent, 
The  place  with  its  own  grace  to  beautify  ; 


220  LET  ME  GO  HOME. 

Though  it  seemed  born  of  heaven,  not  long  could 

last, 

And  from  these  beauties  soon  I  turned  away ; 
And  still  my  spirit  sighed :  "  Let  me  go  home 
To  those  bright  joys  for  which  my  heart  is  pining, 
In  the  blest  land  to  which  my  soul  doth  haste." 

Again  I  gazed,  and  saw  a  cottage  fair, 
In  shady  grove  embowered,  where  sweetest  birds 
Their  glad  melodious  songs  all  cheerily  sung, 
From  morn  till  night  Heaven's  praises  caroling. 
A  happiness  that  seemed  won  from  the  skies, 
Its  impress  here  on  every  face  had  written ; 
Yea,  like  the  paradise  of  earth  it  seemed, 
Ere  sin  or  sorrow  there  had  entrance  found : 
Yet  these  were  joys  of  eajth,  and  therefore  brief, 
And  far  more  high  and  perfect  bliss  I  sought ; 
And  there  I  whispered :  "  Oh !  let  me  go  home." 

Sweet  thoughts  of  my  celestial  home  oft  come, 
My  weary  pilgrimage  and  lone  to  cheer ; 
For  those  bright,  blooming,  ever-radiant  fields 
My  heart  is  pining — oh  I  let  me  go  home. 

I  know  not  why  it  is,  but  oft  there  comes 

A  voice  low  whispering,  "  Thou  art  almost  home/' 


LET  ME   GO   HOME.  221 

And  then  my  heart  grows  light,  and  upward  leaps, 
While  on  that  blissful  land  I  seem  to  gaze, 
And  seem  its  holy  atmosphere  to  breathe, 
Till  I  can  wish  to  be  on  earth  no  more, 
But  wish  the  fetters  of  my  soul  would  loose, 
And  I  to  that  dear  beauteous  land  might  soar, 
Where  sweeter  songs  than  sweetest  birds  e'er  war 
ble, 

Are  ever  ringing  on  the  tuneful  air. 
And  then  again  in  hours  of  agony, 
So  great  as  almost  set  my  spirit  free, 
That  voice   doth   say    "  God  hath  yet  work  for 

thee 

On  earth  to  do ;"  and  then  my  heart  grows  strong, 
And  I  can  even  choose  yet  to  remain 
Where  pain  and  sorrow  o'er  the  spirit  oft 
Their  shadows  cast,  if  I  may  useful  be : 
Bright  angels  from  the  land  of  ceaseless  joy, 
Pour  o'er  my  wearied  heart  the  balm  of  hope, 
And  whisper  of  the  bliss  of  Paradise. 
Oh !  if  such  foretastes  of  that  land  are  sweet 
What  must  its  glorious  fruition  be, 
Where  never  fearing  pain  nor  weariness, 
On  wings  of  thought  unceasingly  do  soar 


222  LET  ME   GO   HOME. 

All  the  redeemed  ones  of  Immanuel, 

And  drink  at  the  pure  fount  of  heaven-born  blias. 

With  patience,  Father,  may  I  bide  thy  time, 
And  when  the  soul's  frail  casket's  laid  aside, 
May  the  bright  gates  of  heaven  be  oped  for  me, 
And  may  my  spirit  free  fly  up  to  thee  ! 
Then,  kind  friends,  gently  lay  this  house  of  clay, 
Where  o'er  my  head  some  shady  tree  may  wave, 
And  a  stone  from  my  much-loved  Green  Mountain 

home, 

May  tell  the  passer-by  where  I  repose. 
Eejoice  ye  then  that  my  soul's  aspirations 
All  at  my  home  above  are  satisfied. 
And  when  your  sun  of  life  shall  setting  be, 
May  hopes  as  bright  as  mine  your  hearts  sustain ; 
And  in  the  glorious  mansions  of  the  skies, 
May  those  for  whom  my  prayers  have  oft  ascended, 
With  the  redeemed  of  every  tongue,  and  clime, 
And  nation,  to  a  banquet  rich  sit  down : 
A  banquet  spread  by  the  Eedeemer's  hand 
For  those,  and  those  alone  who  here  on  earth 
His  name  have  loved,  and  sought  to  glorify. 
Oh !  soul-reviving  feast,  and  sweeter  far 
Than  ever  was  in  kingly  palace  tasted, 


LET  ME   GO   HOME.  223 

Or  e'er  in  Pleasure's  ever-luring  halls, 

With  costliest  sweets  and  viands  was  prepared. 

Friends,  will  ye  cherish  hopes  that  bud  on  earth, 

To  blossom  in  the  sky  ? 

Delusive  dreams 

Are  all  the  fleeting  pleasures  of  this  earth : 
And  when  ye  view  them  from  eternity's  shore, 
Know  ye  not  they'll  like  empty  bubbles  seem, 
Which  swift  before  the  chasing  wind  are  driven  ? 
Oh !  then,  while  brightly  burns  your  lamp  of  life, 
Will  ye  not  search  for  gold  which  ever  shines 
In  the  blest  land  of  wealth  which  never  fails  ? 
Then  when  from  earth   by  Death  ye  are  called 

away, 
To  the  land  of  bliss  eternal  ye'll  go  home. 

I860, 


224  "REST  IN  HEAVEN." 


n 


WHEN  gales  of  Disappointment  rudely  blow, 
And  one  by  one  the  buds  of  Hope  lie  low — 
When  clouds  of  grief  are  gathering  thick  and  fast, 
And  earthly  joys  we  know  not  long  can  last — 
When  Pain  her  orgies  holds  within  our  clay, 
'Tis  sweet  to  upward  look  to  endless  day — 
When  dearest  friends  from  us  by  Death  are  riven, 
'Tis  doubly  sweet  to  think  there's  rest  in  Heaven. 

When  Affluence  her  richest  bounties  brings — 
When  in  Health's  sunshine  bright  the  glad  heart 

sings — 

When  sweetest  flowers  of  Hope  all  gayly  bloom 
For  us,  at  eventide,  and  morn,  and  noon — 
When  life  flows  onward  like  a  peaceful  rill, 
Bright  thoughts  of  heaven  make  life  but  sweeter  still ! 
And  even  when  wreaths  of  joy  for  us  are  woven, 
We  love  to  think  there's  rest — sweet  rest  in  Heaven. 
For  ah !  earth's  brightest  wreaths  with  Sorrow's  tears 
Are  oft  bedewed,  or  stained  with  saddening  fears  ! 


"REST  IN  HEAVEN."  225 

ff 

*      -m 

And  though  loud  notes  from  out  the  trump  of  Fame, 
Should  sound  abroad  to  all  the  world  my  name — 
Though  for  my  brow  she  weave  a  chaplet  fair, 
And  Friendship  and  Affection  place  it  there, 
I  still  must  feel  that  naught  that  they  have  given, 
Can  be  so  sweet  as  is  the  rest  of  Heaven. 

A  gentle  sound  from  out  a  glittering  fold 

Of  love's  bright  banner,  (brighter  far  than  gold,) 

Seems  wafted  now  on  midnight's  whispering  breeze, 

And  while  I  list,  my  aching  head  finds  ease  ; 

For  oh !  'mid  all  the  changing  scenes  of  life, 

No  other  thought  with  bliss  is  half  so  rife, 

As  is  the  thought  that  when  with  earth  I've  done, 

That  banner  bright  will  o'er  me  wave  at  home, 

When  I'm  on  Mercy's  snowy  wing  upborne, 

To  share  the  sweet,  the  glorious  rest  of  Heaven. 

When  in  the  fields  of  sweet  eternity, 

The  happy  soul  finds  rest,  and  joyfully 

Its  pinion  plumes  for  high  and  higher  flight, 

Oh !  then  and  there  will  each  free,  grateful  heart, 

Its  offerings  bring,  and  chant  its  sweetest  strain, 

To  Him  who  hath  prepared  the  rest  of  Heaven. 
10* 


226  TO  AN  INEBRIATE. 


Ca  an  JWriatt 


POET,  thou  dwellest  'neath  a  more  than   cypress 

shade — 

A  gloom  which  thou  thyself  hast  on  thy  spirit  laid ! 
(O  deadly  Alcohol !  hast  thou  the  power  to  bind 
By  thy  strong  spell  the  gateway  of  the  immortal 

mind?) 

"When  weaker  minds  bow  'neath  the  dire  enchanter's 

rage, 

And  stoop  in  Bachannalian  revelries  to  engage, 
Their  own  iigh  dignity  forgetting  o'er  their  cups, 
Ah !  very  much  we  pity  who  the  poison  sups. 

But  when  a  mind  like  thine  doth  from  its  pathway 

turn, 

And  bid  the  glorious  lamp  of  reason  dimly  burn, 
Checks  Fancy's  eagle  flight,  and  like  an  idiot  roves 
Where  thoughts  sublime,  and  towering  up  like  lofty 

groves 


TO  AN  INEBRIATE.  227 

Of  stately  cedars  and  of  pines,  so  high  their  heads 
Upreared,  while   lighter   thoughts,  like   beauteous 

flower-beds 

Their  fragrance  shed,  ah  me !  how  very  much  we  fear 
Dread  retribution  from  Jehovah's  hand  is  near. 

I  marked  those,  noble  tree-like  thoughts,  and  flowers 

so  fine, 
Yet  midst  those  trees  and  flowers  I  saw  a  poisonous 

vine 
Such  Upas-blast  forth-sending,  as  blights  buds  of 

hope — 
Chills  Thought's  fair  flowers,  and  makes  the  mind  in 

darkness  grope. 

Yet  knew  I  not,  till  late,  how  shattered  was  that  lyre 
Whose  numbers  flowed,  the  heart  with  rapture  to  in 
spire, 

Nor  knew  I  that  the  bird  of  Memory  had  flown 
From  out  thy  heart,  and  left  thee  desolate  and  lone. 


228  PLEASURES  OF  POETRY. 


f  teum;  of 


"Yet  less  he  sought  his  own  renown,  than  wished 
To  have  the  eternal  images  of  truth 
And  beauty  pictured,  in  his  verse  admired. 
'Twas  these,  taking  immortal  shape  and  form 
Beneath  his  eye,  that  charmed  his  midnight  watch, 
And  oft  his  soul  with  awful  transports  shook, 
Of  happiness  unheard  by  other  men. 
This  was  that  spell,  that  sorcery,  which  bound 
The  poet  to  his  lyre,  and  would  not  let 
Him  go  ;  that  hidden  mystery  of  joy, 
Which  mado  him  sing  in  spite  of  fortune's  worst, 
And  was,  at  once,  both  motive  and  reward." 

THE  poet's  happiness  who  can  describe  ? 
"Pis  bliss  divinely  sweet  —  'tis  heaven  below  I 
For  him,  the  master  of  the  sacred  lyre, 
Even  while  he  lives,  the  pearly  gates  of  heaven, 
Back  on  their  golden  hinges  seem  to  fly, 
While  he,  rejoicing  in  the  smile  of  God, 
Walks  on  in  paths  of  happiness  so  high, 


PLEASURES  OF  POETRY.  229 

He  can  forget  but  lie  -with  angels  walks, 
And  seems  to  heaven's  "entrancing  melodies" 
To  list,  oft  at  the  morn  or  midnight  hour : 
And  when  the  "  twilight  sweet"  begins  to  draw 
The  "  sable  curtains"  of  the  night  o'er  earth, 
With  reverential  awe  he  bends  his  ear, 
And  hears  the  voice  of  the  Omnipotent, 
Speaking  in  tones  of  love  so  mild  and  sweet, 
He  quite  forgets  the  griefs  and  cares  of  earth, 
While  on  the  wings  of  boundless  thought  he  roves 
Far  o'er  the  earth's  domain,  and  o'er  the  sea, 
And  e'en  through  the  green  fields  of  Paradise ! 

He  quaffs  Heaven's  waters  pure— his  heart  grows 

light— 

And  leaning  on  that  "  arm  which  never  fails," 
And  girded  up  with  wondrous  strength  of  soul, 
He  joyous  walks  through  labyrinths  of  life, 
Onward,  as  if  an  angel  led  him  on, 
And  drowns  his  sorrows  in  his  mighty  joys ; 
And  while  he  stands  poised  earth  and  heaven  be 
tween, 
Trembling  with  his  intensity  of  joy, 


230  PLEASUKES  OF  POETRY 

He  drinks  from  deepest  wells  of  happiness, 
And  then  invites  the  world  to  share  his  bliss  I 

His  harp  sounds  o'er  the  troubled  waters  of  the  soul, 
His  words  of  cheer  oft  sink  the  grief-swollen  tide, 
"While  upward  points  he  to  the  land  of  bliss, 
And  the  sad  soul  forgets  a  world  like  this, 
While  meditating  on  the  fragrant  flowers, 
And  verdant  bowers,  about  the  Tree  of  Life, 
And  on  the  stream  which  flows  so  clearly  on, 
Proceeding  from  the  glorious  throne  of  God, 
Refreshing  the  fair  fields  of  Paradise. 

He  gathers  choicest  blessings  of  the  sky, 
Which  can  to  mortals  here  on  earth  be  given — 
And  Sorrow  makes  his  muse  more  eloquent ; 
For  while  Grief  on  his  heart-strings  plays,  they  vi 
brate 
Unto  a.  high  key-note  of  victory. 

Then  howsoever  poor,  why  should  he  change 
His  lot  for  all  the  gifts  which  wealth  can  bring  ? 
His  is  a  three-fold  joy — -joy  while  he  sings — 
A  rich,  transporting  joy — and  happiness 


PLEASURES  OF  POETRY.  231 

Most  sweet  in  after-life,  in  calling  back 
The  glad  associations  of  his  song. 
And  oh !  a  joy  as  unalloyed  as  earth 
Can  yield  is  his,  to  think  that  while  he  walks 
Through  fields  of  highest  bliss  in  Paradise, 
"  The  transcript  of  his  mind,"  by  Heaven  blest, 
The  mourning  still  may  comfort,  and  the  souls 
Of  wanderers  lead  to  seek  a  home  on  high, 
Through  merits  of  Immanuel. 

Such  hopes 

Like  thornless  roses  will  their  fragrance  shed, 
While  on  his  dying-pillow  lies  his  head, 
And  when  his  spirit  joyfully  departs, 
The  hearts  that  love  him,  will  in  kindness  come, 
To  pay  their  tribute  to  his  memory. 

But  I  must  cease,  lest  those  who  never  taste 
Such  joys  as  I  describe,  should  think  me  wild, 
Or  that  I  am  enthusiastic  quite ; 
But  come,  my  friends,  who  thus  so  rashly  judge, 
And  drink  from  the  sweet  well  of  poesy, 
Then  say  with  me  that  nevermore  ye  hope 
For  joy  on  earth  as  high,  and  deep,  and  rich, 
As  she  to  those  who  love  her  oft  affords. 


[To  those  of  my  miscellaneous  poems  which  I  have  selected  for 
this  work,  I  will,  for  the  sake  of  the  friends  of  my  childhood,  append 
a  few  of  my  earliest  poetical  productions.  As  they  are  inserted 
merely  for  friends,  and  I  do  not  profess  for  them  proficiency  in  artistic 
execution,  nor  pretend  that  they  are  of  any  great  value,  I  trust  that 
those  who  would  read  "  with  a  critic's  eye"  will  pass  them  by  un 
noticed. 

I  place  them  here  because  I  think  they  may  possibly  be  of  some 
interest  to  early  friends,  simply  on  account  of  their  being  some  of  my 
first  attempts  at  writing  poetry.] 


WHO  made  the  little  stars  so  bright, 
Those  beauteous  twinkling  orbs  of  night, 
That  seem  like  little  worlds  of  light  ? 

Canst  thou  tell  me,  mother  ? 

Yes,  my  dear  child,  God  placed  them  there, 
To  light  by  night  this  lower  sphere  ; 


236  WHAT  IS  MAN? 

"Pis  he  who  watches  you  with  care, 
And  guards  you  while  you  sweetly  sleep  ; 
And  they  who  his  commandments  keep, 
Shall  in  his  kingdom  have  a  share. 

Who  made  the  flowers  I  dearly  love  ? 
Who  made  the  pretty  little  dove 
That  sings  so  sweetly  in  the  grove  ? 

Was  it  that  God,  mamma? 

Yes,  child,  the  God  who  made  the  stars, 
Made  the  sweet  dove,  and  made  the  flowers, 
And  all  the  beauties  which  you  see  : 
High  in  the  heaven  of  heavens  he  reigns, 
But  the  child's  prayer  to  hear  he  deigns  1 
Then  pray  my  child  :  He'll  answer  ihee. 


STRANGE  question  and  mysterious  !   What  is  man? 
A  spark  of  spirit,  and  a  clod  of  earth, 
Undying,  and  yet  ever  dying,  too  ; 
Awhile  united  here,  we  know  not  how  ; 
Then  soars  the  spirit  far  above  the  stars, 


WHAT  IS  MAN?  237 

Or  sinks  to  dwell  for  aye  with  awful  fiends, 
Far  banished  from  its  holy  Sovereign's  love, 
But  never  from  that  pure  Omniscient  eye, 
Before  whose  presence  fallen  spirits  tremble, 
While  holiest  angels  stand  in  sacred  awe 
Around  his  high,  majestic,  golden  throne, 
To  wait  the  righteous  orders  of  their  King. 

Unchained  to  earth — disrobed  of  feeble  clay — 
With  angels  soaring,  a  bright  angel,  too, 
The  blest  spirit  bows  before  the  great  I  AM, 
And  casts  its  crown  before  its  Saviour  King. 

The  foes  of  God  (an  awful  gulf  between) 
Look  on,  and  view  the  glories  of  a  heaven  : 
Believe  and  tremble,"  too,  yet  ne'er  adore, 
But  weeping  gnash  their  teeth,  and  curses  pour. 

O  guilty  sinner !  mark  the  difference  well, 
Between  adoring  heaven  and  awful  hell, 
And  ere  the  bowl  which  holds  thy  life  be  broken, 
Look  up,  and  love  thy  God,  and  trust  in  Heaven. 


238  THE  CHRISTIAN'S  WANTS. 


§0  mg 

MY  Bible,  well  might  gold  envelop  thee, 

For  far  more  precious  then  earth's  gold  art  thou ! 

Ah !  who  can  tell  what  thou  hast  been  to  me, 
When  but  for  thee  Death  had  enwreathed  my  brow  ? 

In  vain  earth's  proudest  ones  may  search  to  earth's 
bound, 

For  beauteous  gems  of  priceless  worth, 
For  on  Golconda's  coast  can  ne'er  be  found 

Diamond  or  gold  of  half  thy  worth. 

And  yet  thou  needest  not  external  decking, 
For  rich  are  thy  sweet  stores  of  wealth  that  glow, 

For  those  who  love  thy  glorious,  holy  teachings, 
And  prize  the  precious  gems  thou  dost  bestow. 

Iftw  Christian's  $tots. 

I  WANT  a  heart  that's  fired  with  holy  zeal. 
To  do  my  Heavenly  Father's  righteous  will ; 
Wisdom  I  want  which  cometh  from  above, 
And  all  my  heart  to  glow  with  holy  love. 


THE  CHRISTIAN'S  WANTS.  239 

I  want,  whatever  be  my  earthly  lot, 

That  sweet  content  should  reign  in  every  thought, 

And  faith  I  want,  to  bear  my  spirit  up 

Till  I  drink  the  last  drop  of  Affliction's  cup. 

I  want  the  presence  and  the  smile  of  God — 
His  counsel  sweet  to  guide  me  on  the  road 
"Which  leads  up  to  that  brighter  world  on  high, 
Where  all  is  love,  and  joy,  and  purity. 

I  want  when  on  the  earth  my  days  are  o'er, 
As  on  swift- winged  angel's  wings  to  soar, 
To  view  the  glories  of  that  world  above — 
To  see  the  Saviour  whom  I  dearly  love. 

I  want  a  never-fading  crown  to  wear, 

In  that  bright  world  so  beauteously  fair  I 

A  crown  bought  with  my  dearest  Saviour's  blood, 

Such  as  is  given  to  those  who  love  their  God. 

But  ah !  shall  mortal  dare  such  griefs  to  craye  ? 
Yes !  for  the  blest  Kedeemer  died  to  save, 
And  God  his  promises  has  surely  given 
To  cheer  me  on  the  road  that  leads  to  heaven. 


240  OX  VIEWING  A  FRAGILE  VINE. 


©n  ilwittg  a 

FROM  THE  WINDOW  OF  MY  SICK-ROOM. 

EACH  little  floweret  there 

Has  Q-od's  peculiar  care, 

And  every  leaflet  frail 

Seems  made  his  praise  to  tell  ; 

While  in  the  sighing  breeze 

The  tiny  flowerets  wreathe, 

Then  gently  lift  their  heads, 

Or  bow  them  to  their  lowly  bed5!, 

As  if  awaiting  God's  behest, 

To  bid  them  seek  Death's  quiet  rest. 

Then  they  seem  without  a  sigh, 
Gently  to  resign  their  breath, 

Like  an  infant  called  to  die, 

Ere  it  thinks  or  knows  of  death. 


THE  PILGRIM'S  DREAM.  241 


f  itgrim's 

jf    >v 

MIGHT  I  a  poet's  pencil  borrow  now, 
I'd  paint  a  dream  I  had  not  long  ago, 
When  in  ray  vision  searching  for  a  home, 
O'er  the  wide  world  I  as  a  pilgrim  roamed. 

. 
I  searched  full  many  a  beauteous  city  o'er — 

I  walked  on  mountain's  top  and  ocean's  shore, 

"Watching  I  spied  a  landscape  far  away, 

To  which  I  thought  I  much  would  love  to  stray. 

Then  bright  Hope  waved  her  fairy  wand — 
Ah  !  then  I  loosed  me  from  the  strand, 
And  swiftly  plied  my  light  boat  o'er 
Unto  the  beauteous  wild- wood  shore. 

( 
Bright  flowers  all  gayly  bloomed  and  fair, 

Exhaling  sweetest  odors  there. 
I  thoughtful  roved  awhile  in  solitude, 
Then  sat  I  down  beneath  a  willow's  shade ; 
A  purling  stream  was  gliding  at  my  feet, 

And  zephyrs  round  me  played  with  music  sweet. 
11 


242  THE  PILGRIM'S  DREAM. 

I  love  o'er  the  wild  woods  to  roam, 
Yet  here  I  could  not  choose  my  home! 
I  turned  my  steps  another  way, 
And  in  a  far-off  clime  did  stray. 

I  sought,  and  sought  in  vain  a  home  to  find, 
Until  by  faith  I  viewed  a  better  land. 
Sweet  Hope  unfurled  her  golden  pinion  then — 
I  fled  from  earth,  and  found  a  home  in  heaven. 

A  swift- winged  seraph  flew  at  Q-od's  command, 
And  placed  upon  my  head  a  diadem ; 
A  golden  harp  employed  my  trembling  hand, 
And  with  heaven's  holy  minstrelsy  I  sung. 

Low  at  my  Saviour's  feet  I  humbly  bowed  ; 
Lord,  and  is  this  a  sinner's  home,  I  cried : 
He  gently  raised  me  in  his  loving  arms, 
And  bade  me  welcome  to  the  heavenly  charms. 

Then  never  more  on  earth  I  sought  to  roam, 
For  I  in  Paradise  had  found  a  home : 
A  home  where  thornless  roses  ne'er  decay, 
And  where  bright  seraphs  swell  their  holiest  lays. 


ELIJAH  AT  THE   CAVE   OF  MOUNT  HOEEB.      243 


at  ito  djlaw  af  Utotmt 

GOD'S  mourning  prophet  came  to  his  holy  mount ! 
Perchance  he  came  to  rest  from  anxious  care, 
In  dreamy  solitude  a  saddened  heart — 
Perchance  to  meet  his  God  the  prophet  came 
To  the  mount  where  God's  own  holy  law  was 

given, 

"When  thunder,  lightning,  and  the  trumpet's  sound, 
Made  fearful  Israel's  hosts  far  off  remove, 
When  even  the  humblest  man  amid  their  ranks, 
A  fearful  trembling  felt. 

Elijah  came, 

And  in  the  dark  cold  cave  lodged  the  lone  seer, 
The  eye  of  his  God  kindly  o'er  him  watched ; 
He  heard  Jehovah  speak,  and  answering  said : 
"  For  thee  I've  very  jealous  been,  0  Lord ! 
For  Israel  hath  thy  covenant  forsaken, 
Thine  altars   hath   thrown   down,  and  prophets 

slain ; 

Alone  I'm  left,  and  e'en  my  life  they  seek  I" 
God's  voice  replied :  "  Go,  stand,  before  the  Lord." 


24:4  LINES. 

He  stood  and  heard  the  rending  mountains  shake, 
And  rocks  in  pieces  break  before  his  God  ! 
He  sees  naught  in  the  hurrying  blast  to  fear  — 
His  heart's  unawed,  nor  hears  the  voice  of  God. 
The  wind  is  hushed  —  then  comes  an  earthquake's 

roar, 

Then  burns  the  glowing  flame  in  fury  wild  : 
No  quaking  fear  the  prophet's  heart  doth  move, 
Though'  in  the  fire  he  sees  a  God  revealed. 
But  hark  !  the  Spirit  gently  whispers  now  1 
His  head  is  bent  in  adoration  low  — 
His  voice  is  hushed  —  his  wondering  heart  is  awed  ; 
He  listens  to  the  breathings  of  the  Lord, 
And  pours  his  griefs  into  the  Almighty's  ear, 
Then  hearkens  to  the  mandate  of  his  God, 
And  with  a  new,  a  stronger  faith  inspired, 
On  errands  for  the  great  Eternal  goes. 


HARK  !  for  the  direful  sounds  of  hell 
Across  my  visioned  fancy  steal  I 
I  hear  the  sounds  of  pain  and  anguish 
Of  souls  who  at  God's  frown  do  languish  ! 


LINES.  245 

The  wail  so  dread — I  trembling  hear  it, 
And  turn  away — I  can  not  bear  it. 

O  Fancy !  spread  thy  pinion  wide ! 
Let  me  view  heaven's  vail  drawn  aside — 
Heaven's  songs  of  praise,  oh !  let  me  hear  1 
Ah  I  now  sweet  sounds  burst  on  my  ear ; 
My  heart  is  ravished,  while  it  upward  rises, 
Still  listens  to  the  song,  and  still  rejoices. 

Oh !  how  unlike  is  the  glad  employ 
Of  heaven's  sweet  minstrelsy  of  joy, 
To  those  so  dreadful  wails  of  sorrow, 
"Which  fill  the  listener's  heart  with  horror. 

And  what  doth  constitute  this  difference  wide? 
In  heaven  are  friends,  in  hell  the  foes  of  God, 
And  far  as  love  from  bitter  hatred  is, 
So  far  is  happy  heaven  from  hell  divided. 


246  MUSINGS. 


Is  there  on  earth  a  place  where  cruel  Envy  dwelleth 

not? 
Oh !  tell  me  where,  and  let  me  fly  to  such  a  love-lit 

spot, 
For  though  I've  searched  in  tomes  of  history  and 

fable, 
To  find  such  place  described  not  oft  have  I  been  able. 

Is  there  a  place  on  earth  where  Love  has  power  un 
bounded? 

Where  she  her  golden  scepter  ever  holds,  and  none 
oppose  ? 

Where  heart  of  brother  is  to  brother's  heart  united  ? 

Where  holy  peace  forever  reigns,  and  none  e'er  find- 
eth  foes  ? 

Doth  earth  afford  one  place  where  thornless  roses 

bloom  ? 

And  joys  from  sin  and  sorrow  free  unsullied  come  ? 
A  voice  seems  crying :  "  Seek  ye  these  beyond  the 

tomb, 
For  oh !  they're  surely  found  in  thine  eternal  home." 


SAMSON'S  ESCAPE  FROM  GAZA.  247 


j&mson's  (tap*  ([ruin 

BEHOLD  triumphant  Gaza  rise  at  early  morn ! 
But  where  are  now  its  brazen  gates  and  bolts  so 

strong  ? 

Ah !  what  dread  foe  of  giant  power, 
Came  in  the  stilly  midnight  hour, 
When  sweetly  wrapped  in  Sleep's  soft  arms 
The  quiet  city  feared  no  harm  ? 

An  Israelite  came  yesternight, 
And  him  they  compassed  in  their  might, 
And  thought  at  morn  their  hated  foe  to  slay, 
But  see  him  rise,  and  bear  their  gates  away ! 
And  posts  and  bars  he  on  his  shoulders  bears, 
Though  enmity  of  thousands  thus  he  dares. 

Ah !  yes,  they  thought  (and  oh !  how  vainly,  too) 
That  valiant  enemy's  life  to  destroy, 
"Whom  God  had  raised  themselves  to  slay  1 
But  trust  no  more  in  your  puny  strength, 
Ye  erring  sons  of  fair  Philistia, 
Since  Israel's  God  has  come  at  length, 
To  a  chosen  son  of  his  such  power  to  give, 
Yourselves  to  avenge,  and  bid  his  children  live. 


248  HENRY  MARTYN. 


JJlartp. 

MARTYN,  though  no  loved  earthly  friend, 
Shall  e'er  with  fond  affection  bend 
Above  thy  lonely  burial  place, 
Amidst  a  far-off  heathen  race, 
Thy  God  shall  watch  thy  sleeping  dust, 
Till  thou  with  all  his  ransomed  just, 
Shalt  in  his  glorious  image  rise, 
To  meet  him  hailing  from  the  skies. 

Affection  shed  no  halo  round  thy  dying-bed ! 
Ah  1  none  ?     Not  so !  around  thee  shone  the  smile 

of  God, 

Thy  loving  Saviour  listened  to  his  son's  last  prayer, 
And  thy  last  sigh  was  breathed  into  Immanuel's 

ear. 

And  now  thy  soul  enjoys  a  noble  rest ! 
Then  Tocat,  hold  with  joy  thy  sacred  trust ; 
The  mouldering  ashes  of  God's  faithful  son, 
Who  his  glorious  crown  of  victory  won, 
Doth  ever  sing  in  bright  celestial  bowers, 
A  song  that  well  accords  with  seraph  lyres. 


HENRY   MARTYN.  249 

Even  when  on  earth  "  heaven's"  holy  "  dawn"  was 

sweet 

To  him  who  loved  to  learn  at  Jesus'  feet ! 
Now  sweet  to  him  heaven's  full  fruition  is, 
Where  ever  he  beholds  Immanuel's  face, 
Eejoicing  in  his  Saviour's  kind  embrace. 

Perchance  his  spirit  to  some  heathen  land, 
Is  an  angel  sent  by  Jesus'  high  command, 
Or  watches  o'er  some  friend  of  early  days, 
To  lure  from  earthly  joys,  to  wisdom's  ways. 

Whate'er  in  heaven  is  his  employ, 
His  Grod  to  serve,  to  him  is  joy; 
And  lo !  to  heaven's  golden  floor, 
He  bows  his  head,  and  worships  there  1 
Yea,  and  throughout  eternity, 
Praise  on  his  spirit's  lips  shall  be. 


11* 


250  LINES. 


ON  THE  DEATH  OF  A  MEMBER  OP   THE   "JUVENILE 
CHOIR,"  IN  W ,  WHO  DIED  DEC.  20,  1842. 

THE  time  approaches  when  teacher  and  scholars  must 

part: 
Mirth  has  fled — sadness  steals  o'er  many  a  youthful 

heart  1 

For  hark !  I  hear  the  bell  slow  strike  at  early  morn ! 
It  is  to  tell  me  from  that  number  one  has  gone. 

Gone  ?  yes,  gone  from  that  youthful  band  forever, 
For  Death  has  loosed  the  cord  that  to  them  bound 

her, 

And  sympathy  for  friends  around  her  "  early  bier," 
And  Love  and  Memory  tempt  the  falling  tear. 

It  seems  but  yesterday  she  sung,"  Weep  not  for  me ;" 
Now  hushed  is  that  sweet  voice — we  may  not  hear  it 

now; 

For  the  grave  has  received  her  ashes  to  its  trust, 
Now  sleeps  that  fair  and  loved  one  in  the  silent  dust. 


LINES.  251 

Tread  lightly  now  o'er  the  grave  of  the  sleeping 

dead  I 

Tread  lightly,  children,  over  your  friend's  lowly  bed, 
Nor  e'er  forget  that  you  soon  'neath  the  sod  must  lie  I 
I  seem  to  hear  a  spirit  say :  "  PREPARE  TO  DIE." 

I  almost  listen  to  the  sacred  choir  of  heaven ! 

Is  Mary  there?     Oh!  then  weep  not  that  she  has 

gone, 

But  prepare  your  sweet  alleluias  there  to  swell, 
Where  never  tears  of  parting  may  the  spirit  chill. 

Sfoea. 

'Tis  not  for  us  to  know  while  earth's  our  home, 
Why  are  the  griefs  of  this  sad  life  and  lone, 
But  oh !  when  all  life's  bitter  tears  are  shed, 
When  we've  no  more  of  grief  or  woe  to  dread, 
Then  shall  we  rise  to  sing  as  angels  do ; 
Oh !  then  shall  lofty  praise  our  tongues  employ, 
For  then  we  shall  see  that  God  was  just  and  good, 
And  ever  wise  when  he  sent  Affliction's  rod. 
Such  thoughts  the  Christian  pilgrim's  heart  can 

cheer, 
Oft  in  life's  darkest  and  its  saddest  hours. 


252  FANCY'S  DREAM. 


I  HEAR  a  voice  sweet  murmuring  and  low ! 
Say,  breezes,  what  is  this  strange  mystery ! 
"Pis  Nature's  voice  as  she  speaks  by  winds  and 

flowers, 

And  Fancy  sings  of  the  days  when  I  loved  to  roam 
O'er  the  fair  hills  and  fields  of  my  native  home. 
Once  more  I  list  the  music  of  the  winds, 
As  of  old  when  rustling  through  the  lofty  trees, 
They  seemed  like  angels'  voices  praising  God. 
For  ah  !  I've  listened  to  those  forest  winds, 
Till  my  soul  has  seemed   by  heavenly   zephyrs 

fanned — 

Has  been  so  awed  by  sweet  and  holy  fear, 
I've  almost  thought  some  angel  voice  to  hear. 
Now  Fancy  lists — I  pluck  fair  forest  gems — 
Again  I  see  the  bright  Claytonia, 
Which  gently  kisses  feet  that  on  it  tread, 
And  seems  to  own  it  was  made  for  us ; 
And  here  is  the  Campanula  fair, 
That  as  it  bendeth  o'er  the  rocks, 


FANCY'S  DREAM.  253 

Doth  gently  ring  its  vesper  bell, 

And  sweetly  call :  "  To  prayer — to  prayer." 

And  other  forest  flowers  I  see, 

That  looking  up  from  'neath  a  rock, 

Or  shelter  of  some  taller  flower, 

Seem  whispering :  "Be  humble,  all." 

Sweet   teachings   those  voiceless  monitors   have 

given, 

Whose  wondrous  varied  tints  and  numerous  forms, 
Show  they  were  penciled  by  the  omniscient  God, 
And  now  whene'er  by  Fancy's  eye  I  view  them, 
The  same  sweet  lessons  they  are  whispering. 

Now  home,  o'er  thy  fair  waters  swift  I  glide, 
Or  sit  in  thoughtfulness  at  eventide, 
And  watch  the  "  king  of  day"  behind  thy  moun 
tains  hide, 

Then  view  the  "  queen  of  night"  serenely  glide 
Up  through  the  smiling  heaven's  cerulean  way, 
Shedding  on  all  around  her  sweet  mild  ray ; 
And  now  on  some  huge  precipice  I  stand, 
A  deeply  yawning  gulf  at  my  right  hand, 


254  FANCY'S  DREAM. 

While  at  my  left,  high  rocks  above  me  peer, 
And  bid  defiance  to  the  rolling  year  : 
Gentle  then  warring  winds  around  me  sigh, 
Oft  telling  of  a  potent  Arm  on  high, 
While  far  away  the  rolling  river's  roar 
Doth  loudly  cry :  "  Soon  time  with  thee  will  be 
o'er." 

Come,  atheist,  listen  and  gaze  with  me  ! 

Canst  thou  stand  here  unawed,  and  all  unmoved  ? 

Canst  thou  now  dare  to  say,  "  There  is  no  God  I" 

Thou  mightest  as  wisely  call  thyself  a  god — 

Assuming  this,  bid  oceans  cease  to  roll, 

Or  strive  to  bind  some  mighty  cataract. 

Canst  thou  call  scenes  like  this  all  useless,  then  ? 
Ah !  no,  for  were  earth  void  of  rocks  and  hills, 
Beauteous  streams,  and  gently  murmuring  rills, 
My  native  land  would  less  of  grandeur  show, 
And  speak  much  less  of  God,  methinks  than  now. 


SCENES  IN  THE  LIFE  OF  MOSES.  255 


itea  iit          ife  jrf 


WHAT  means  that  wailing  cry  from  Israel  ? 

Lo  !  Egypt's  king  decrees  that  infant  sons 

Of  Jacob's  hated  race  must  all  be  slain, 

And  trembling,  fears,  and  mourning  fill  the  land. 

A  goodly  child  of  Levi's  tribe  is  born, 

Who  by  his  mother's  anxious,  tender  care, 

"  Three  months"  from  cruel  death  is  safely  kept  ; 

Then  fearing  lest  her  little  one  be  slain 

By  ruthless  hands  before  her  weeping  eyes, 

A  tiny  ark  of  rushes  buildeth  she, 

And  then  with  many  a  kiss,  and  many  a  prayer, 

His  little  floating  cradle  lays  she  down 

Amid  the  flags,  upon  the  river's  brink, 

While  anxiously  his  loving  sister  waits, 

To  see  what  will  become  of  him. 

Ah!  look! 
With  queenly  step  the  daughter  of  a  king, 


256  SCENES   IN  THE  LIFE  OF  MOSES. 

"Walks  by  the  river's  side.     The  babe  perchance 

Is  sleeping,  all  unconscious  of  its  fate ; 

But  strangely  curious  to  know  what  can 

Be  there  concealed,  the  princess  sends  her  maid 

To  bring  the  bark  so  frail,  a  mother's  hand 

Had  there  amid  the  swaying  rushes  laid, 

And  which  a  heavenly  "Watcher  safe  had  kept. 

She  opened  it — and  lo !  the  upturned  eyes 
Of  weeping  innocence,  met  her  wondering  gaze  I 
The  silent  language  of  an  infant's  tear, 
More  eloquent  than  all  the  pompous  words 
Of  boasted  pride,  with  pity  touched  her  heart, 
And  she  resolved,  despite  a  father's  frown, 
The  beauteous  little  stranger  child  should  live. 

Just  at  this  favored  moment  Miriam  came, 
And  from,  the  princess'  lips  received  command, 
To  bring  a  Hebrew  nurse  to  care  for  him. 

"With  hastening  steps  his  mother  grateful  comes, 
And  with  a  heart  with  joy  o'erflowing,  folds 
In  her  embrace  her  precious  darling  babe. 
Ah !  what  an  idle  word  did  "  wages"  seem, 


SCENES  IN  THE  LIFE   OF   MOSES.  257 

To  her  who  in  Affection's  wealth  rejoiced 
That  she  with  kind  maternal  care  might  watch 
The  smiles  and  slumbers  of  her  baby  boy, 
And  feel  that  in  her  arms  he  would  be  safe 
From  murderous  hands,  and  in  a  kingly  court 
Appear,  as  one  who  had  a  birthright  there. 

As  the  adopted  son  of  Pharaoh's  child, 

He  grew  to  manhood's  years ;  but  in  an  hour 

When  Moses  was  by  strong  temptation  tried, 

And  by  Egyptian  cruelty  provoked, 

He  raised  his  hand,  and  the  oppressor  slew ; 

And,  fearing  the  avenger's  rod,  he  flew 

To  Midian,  and  won  him  there  a  bride 

From  priestly  family,  and  there  sojourned 

Full  forty  years,  till  they  who  sought  his  life, 

All  in  their  graves  were  slumbering ;  and  then 

While  to  the  desert,  he  his  father's  flocks 

Was  leading,  near  the  holy  mount  of  God, 

The  great  I  AM  in  glory  there  appeared, 

And  as  he  turned  aside  to  gaze  upon 

The  bush  that  burned  with  unconsuming  fire, 

Jehovah  called,  and  bade  him  draw  not  near, 


258  SCENES  IN  THE  LIFE  OF  MOSES. 

But  put  his  shoes  from  off  his  feet,  while  on 
The  ground  by  God's  own  presence  holy  made. 

The  God  of  Abram,  Isaac,  Jacob  too, 
Told  him  that  He  His  people's  cry  had  heard, 
And  that  to  them  He  would  deliverance  bring, 
And  that  he  should  their  leader  be,  when  He, 
Jehovah  God,  with  power  would  bring  them  forth 
From  the  oppressor's  rod. 

With  many  signs, 

And  wondrous  plagues,  he  would  the  Egyptian  king 
Constrain  to  let  them  go,  with  well-filled  hands. 
The  rod  to  a  serpent  turned,  again  a  rod — 
The  hand  made  leperous,  and  the  hand  made  whole, 
Should  soon  to  Israel  prove  him  sent  of  God, 
Else  he  might  even  water  turn  to  blood 
Before  their  eyes  to  prove  his  message  true. 

But  hear  him  plead  his  lack  of  eloquence, 

And  beg  the  Lord  to  by  another  send, 

For  he  was  "slow  of  speech,  and  of  slow  tongue." 

Ah !  needs  it  courtly  eloquence  the  heart 

To  win,  if  God  be  with  the  speaker's  soul, 


SCENES  IN  THE   LIFE  OF  MOSES.  259 

And  He  the  listener's  heart  prepare  to  hear, 
And  His  sure  blessing  add  ? 

God's  anger  rose 

Against  His  servant  then.    He  Aaron  chose, 
To  speak  for  him  while  he  in  place  of  God, 
His  lips  to  teach,  should  to  his  brother  be. 

Returning  to  his  home,  his  errand  made 
He  known,  and  Jethro  bade  him  "  go  in  peace." 
But  will  his  daughter  leave  her  early  friends, 
And  father's  house,  to  a  stranger  land  to  go  ? 

She  of  a  woman's  trusting  heart  possessed, 
Leaving  her  early  home,  and  childhood's  friends, 
On  stronger  arm  and  sterner  heart  relying, 
Dared  to  a  distant  land  to  go  with  him — 
Nor  gold,  nor  splendid  retinue  she  asked ; 
Her  husband's  honor  was  the  valued  gem 
Which  decked  her  brow — her  sons  were  at  her  side, 
And  they  were  wealth  most  highly  prized  by  her : 
So  they  their  humble  pilgrimage  pursued ; 
Jehovah  with  them  went,  to  be  their  guide ; 
The  wonder-working  rod  was  in  Moses'  hand, 
And  Aaron  gladly  met  them  by  the  way : 


260  SCENES  IN  THE  LIFE  OF  MOSES. 

The  elders  of  the  people  they  assembled, 

And  wrought  strange  signs  before  their  wondering 

eyes, 
And  told  them  of  the  message  of  the  Lord. 

Israel  heard  with  faith,  and  worshiped  too, 
But  Pharaoh  dared  defy  the  Omnipotent, 
And  harder  made  the  task  of  the  oppressed : 
Perchance  God  suffered  it  their  faith  to  try. 

The  oft-repeated  signs  and  wonders  of  the  Lord, 
But  harder  made  the  heart  of  Egypt's  king, 
Till  mournful  wails  from  every  house  in  all 
The  realm  went  up ;  for  at  the  midnight  hour, 
Death's  angel  walked  abroad  through  all  the  land, 
And  slew  the  first  born  of  each  household  there, 
Save  they  who  the  mark  of  God's  sure  promise  bore. 

With  softened  heart  the  king  then  bade  them  go ; 
Yea,  earnestly  besought  them  to  be  gone 
In  haste,  for  then  the  Omnipotent  he  feared. 

"Jewels  of  gold  and  raiment"  borrowed  they, 

For  in  the  sight  of  the  Egyptian  host, 

God  gave  them  favor,  and  that  host  they  spoiled : 


SCENES  IN  THE  LIFE  OF  MOSES.  261 

From  Egypt  then  with  a  high,  hand  they  went. 
The  haughty  monarch's  heart  was  hardened  still ; 
"  Six  hundred  chosen  chariots"  he  took, 
With  "captains  over  every  one  of  them," 
And  hastily  pursued  the  flying  host. 
The  Israelitish  bands  their  eyes  upraised, 
And  lo !  the  strength  of  Egypt  followed  them ; 
Then  in  their  fear  they  cried  unto  the  Lord 
And  of  their  leader  spake  complainingly  ; 
But  Moses  bade  the  trembling  host :  "  Fear  not, 
But  stand  ye  still  and  God's  salvation  see, 
Which  he  this  day  to  you  shall  show.     The  Lord 
For  you  shall  fight,  and  ye  shall  hold  your  peace." 
God's  angel  from  before  the  camp  removed — 
The  cloudy,  fiery  pillar  too  removed, 
And  stood  between  them  and  their  cruel  foes ; 
To  them  it  was  a  cloud  and  darkness  too ; 
To  Israel  it  gave  cheering  light  by  night. 

Before  them  lay  the  deep  and  broad  Eed  Sea, 
And  yet  Jehovah  bade  them  onward  go, 
And  o'er  it  Moses  at  the  Lord's  command, 
Stretched  out  his  hand  and  rod — the  sea  divided — 
By  a  strong  wind  its  depths  went  back,  and  formed 


262  SCENES  IN  THE  LIFE  OF  MOSES. 

A  crystal  wall  of  waters  high  heaped  up, 
And  held  by  the  Almighty's  powerful  hand, 
While  on  the  deep  sea's  bed  in  solemn  march, 
The  myriad  throng  of  old  and  young  passed  on, 
Till  safely  they  the  eastern  shore  ascended. 

Their  avaricious  and  presumptuous  foes 

Dared  follow  them,  nor  feared  the  Lord  of  hosts 

His  kind  protection  would  from  them  withhold ! 

Israel's  hour  of  deliverance  had  come  I 
Moses,  their  leader,  stands  upon  the  shore, 
And  o'er  the  sea  he  stretches  out  his  hand ! 
Now  with  a  mighty  crash  that  wall  falls  down  1 
Beneath  its  weight  their  foes  all  buried  lie — . 
Like  lead  in  mighty  waters  sank  they  down, 
For  the  Lord  Jehovah  "  triumphed  gloriously," 
His  hand  in  pieces  dashed  the  enemy, 
Horseman  and  horse  o'erthrew  he  in  the  sea. 

Israel  then  with  wondering  eyes  beheld 
The  wondrous  power  of  the  Omnipotent  1 
Then  what  a  glorious  song  of  praise  arose  I 
A  pealing  anthen>fironi  a  grateful  throng, 


SCENES  IN  THE  LIFE   OF  MOSES.  263 

In  lofty  chorus  echoed  o'er  the  sea, 
Where  lay  their  foes  entombed  beneath  the  wave, 
Then  rose  like  sweet  perfume  of  incense  pure, 
Before  the  throne  of  their  Deliverer. 

That  triumph-song  in  one  exultant  shout 
"Went  up,  resounding,  and  reechoing  long, 
O'er  lofty  hill,  and  wilderness,  and  vale, 
And  Israel's  daughters  with  their  timbrels  sang 
A  sweet  response  of  freedom  and  of  joy  ; 
For  then  the  wondering  grateful  multitude, 
Feared  and  believed  the  Lord  their  righteous  God, 
And  they  believed  his  servant  Moses  too. 

But  soon  new  troubles  rose  their  faith  to  try : 

At  Marah's  bitter  waters  murmered  they, 

But  Moses  cried  unto  the  Lord  his  God, 

And  soon  the  fallen  tree  such  change  had  wrought, 

As  made  for  them  the  bitter  waters  sweet. 

So  oft  the  bitter  waters  of  our  lives, 

Are  sweetened  by  the  power  of  faith  and  prayer. 

Again  they  murmured  for  the  lack  of  bread, 
God  heard  their  cry,  and  gave  them  daily  bread 
From  heaven,  for  forty  years. 


264  SCENES  IN  THE  LIFE   OF  MOSES. 

At  Sinai  made  they  covenant  with  the  Lord, 
And  God  in  glory  and  in  might  descended, 
And  when  the  trumpet  sounded  loud  and  long, 
And  Moses  spake,  God  answered  by  a  voice, 
And  thus  his  servant  honored  in  the  sight 
Of  the  believing,  trembling  host,  that  stood 
Around  the  quaking  mount  where  God  appeared 
'Mid  thunders  and  'mid  lightnings,  in  a  cloud, 
When  smoke  therefrom  as  from  a  furnace  rose, 
And  he  to  Moses  for  his  people  gave 
Commandments  mingled  with  sweet  promises, 
And  solemn  oaths  of  faithfulness  they  spake. 

Again  was  Moses  called  unto  the  mount, 
While  a  bright  cloud  betokening  that  God 
In  glory  there  appeared,  o'ershadowed  it, 
While  six  times  ran  the  sun  his  daily  round. 
The  seventh  came,  and  God  his  servant  called 
Into  the  midst  of  that  bright,  radiant  cloud, 
Whose  glory  like  devouring  fire  appeared  1 
He  went  to  talk  face  unto  face  with  God ; 
The  stone  tables  written  over  with 
The  finger  of  the  Lord,  there  to  receive ; 


JOSEPHINE.  289 

And  o'er  the  sea  to  that  dear  cherished  spot 
Where  oft  her  heart  had  been,  she  joyous  flies 
To  meet  the  .dearest  treasures  of  her  soul. 

With  mingled  joy  and  sorrow  met  they  there ; 
Forgiveness  beamed  in  her  mild,  gentle  eye, 
And  lip  to  lip  was  fondly  pressed  again, 
And  gloom  exchanged  for  holy,  heart-felt  joy. 

Days,  months,  and  years  flew  swiftly,  happily  on, 
Until  a  nation's  struggles,  fierce  and  strong, 
Exchanged  their  joyous  hope  for  cruel  grief; 
Immuring  him  in  gloomy  prison- walls, 
From  his  loved  wife  and  children  separate. 

The  Jacobins  who  triumphed  in  their  power, 
Oft  sought  less  furious  Girondists  to  slay  ; 
Though  kindly  of  impending  danger  warned, 
Ah  !  how  Beauharnais'  soul  then  scorned  to  flee 
From  oppression's  rage,  secure  in  innocence 
Of  deeds  as  dark  as  his  accusers  were. 

While  he  was  borne  by  a  maddened  throng  away 
To  a  lone  captive's  cell,  what  grief  her  soul 
Oppressed ;  but  ah !  how  lofty  was  his  bearing, 
And  he  exulted  in  a  martyr's  fate. 
13 


290  JOSEPHINE. 

Though  from  his  household  band  they  rudely  tore 

him, 

His  heart  from  them  could  not  divided  be ; 
But  oft  the  kindly  words  of  cheer  and  love 
And  sympathy  they  to  each  other  send, 
And  each  in  sorrow  for  the  other's  woe, 
Most  kindly  strives  to  soothe,  and  yet  each  soul 
Is  deeply  pained  with  thought  of  present  grief, 
For  even  from  lips  of  childish  innocence, 
The  tyrants  fain  would  accusation  bring.* 
From  the  caresses  of  her  little  ones, 
"Who,  ere  they  slept,  for  her  had  raised  a  prayer, 
At  gloomy  hour  of  night,  they  bore  sad  Josephine : 
Y"et  prisoned  thus,  her  gentle  spirit  breathed 
In  tones  of  deep  and  holy  sympathy 
For  other  hearts  that  in  affliction  pined ; 
And  sweet  thoughts  of  each  other's  love,  'mid  grief, 
And  'mid  imprisonment,  the  gentle  hearts 
Of  Josephine  and  of  Beauharnais  cheered. 

*  A  member  of  the  committee,  under  pretext  of  interest  in  Beau 
harnais,  entered  the  abode  of  Josephine,  and  closely  questioned  her 
children  in  regard  to  the  opinions,  meetings,  etc.,  of  their  parents, 
hoping  that  the  unsuspecting  ones  might  disclose  some  secret 


JOSEPHINE.  291 

At  length,  the  tyrant's  fearful  sentence  passed, 
What  touching  words  of  truthful  tenderness 
To  one  so  dear,  whom  he  may  meet  on  earth 
Ah !  never  more,  flow  from  Beauharnais'  pen ! 
Sadly  he  stooped  to  gather  up  the  locks, 
Which  hands  oft  dipped  in  blood,  had  rudely  shorn 
From  round  the  lofty  forehead  blanched  with  care, 
And  purchased  them  as  a  last  legacy — 
As  the  sure  "  pledges"  of  his  dying  love 
For  her,  who  once  in  jealousy  he  wronged, 
And  then  inclosed  with  words  of  sad  regret, 
And  sorrowful  confession  of  the  wrong 
Which  more  than  thoughts  of  death  then  pained  his 
heart. 

The  blood-stained  axe  hath  fallen,  and  he  sleeps 
A  dreamless  sleep. 

Where  is  his  gentle  wife  ? 
Watched  like  a  guilty  criminal,  she  stands 
To  hear  her  sentence ;  but  how  calm  she  lists  I 
Lo  1  not  a  sigh  escapes  her  parted  lips ; 
And  not  a  tear,  save  those  a  mother's  tenderness 
Calls  forth,  now  stains  the  lovely  mourner's  cheek. 


292  JOSEPHINE. 

Her  doom  is  sealed — she  feels  that  she  must  die ; 

And  yet  while  weeping  friends  deplore  her  fate, 

A  gleam  of  hope  lights  up  her  inmost  soul ; 

For  sometimes  in  the  future  dim,  she  views 

A  throne,  and  queenly  robes,  and  coronet, 

And  hears  the  echoings  of  the  wild  applause 

Of  multitudes,  who  shout,  "  Long  live  the  Queen  I" 

For  in  the  gipsy's  prophecy  she  sees 

That  this  perchance  may  be  her  fate  ;* 

But  ah  !  how  can  it  be  ?  'tis  likelier  far 

That  at  to-morrow's  dawn,  the  guillotine 

Will  stamp  on  that  fair  brow  the  hue  of  death. 

The  assembly  sits, 
And  like  a  lion  eager  for  new  prey, 
Sits  Robespierre,  watchful,  half  afraid ; 
St.  Just  is  speaking,  but  with  flushed  brow, 
In  anxious,  eager  haste,  another  comes  If 
His  restless  eye  is  fired  with  energy, 
And  haughtily  and  fearlessly  he  speaks ! 

*  Josephine  is  said  to  have  acknowledged  in  after-years  that  the 
prophecy  of  "  Euphemia,"  in  spite  of  her  better  judgment,  buoyed  up 
her  spirit  while  in  prison. 
f  Tallien. 


JOSEPHINE.  293 

Now  with  impetuous  zeal  the  maddened  throng 

Is  shouting  through  those  halls,  "  Down  with  the 

tyrant  I" 

So  like  a  cringing  slave  he  seeks  to  hide  ; 
But  vengeance  falls  upon  the  assassin's  head, 
And  Robespierre  slays. 

The  tyrant's  fall 

Soon  oped  the  prison-doors  for  Josephine, 
And  lo !  with  bounding  step  her  children  come 
To  share  a  gentle  mother's  kind  embrace. 


The  gloomy  echoes  of  the  guillotine 

Are  hushed,  but  civil  war  not  yet  hath  ceased. 

A  youthful  soldier  grasps  the  sword  for  France, 

And  where  Menou  is  tremulous,  he  is  brave. 

He  plants  his  cannon  in  the  "  insurgents' "  path, 

And  quells  rebellion  with  his  "  hail  of  death ;" 

The  nation  owns  him  its  deliverer — 

New  offices  and  honors  are  conferred  ; 

Yet  in  his  solitary  pride,  he  boasts 

That  they  who  give  him  place,  shall  leg  of  him 

The  honors  which  they  crave. 

The  chief  disarms 
The  conquered,  and  obtains  Beauharnais'  sword. 


294  JOSEPHINE. 

His  son  petitions  for  a  father's  blade — 
The  tender  father  whom  he  loved  so  well. 
His  wish  is  granted,  and  with  queenly  grace 
Comes  Josephine  to  speak  her  gratitude. 
The  gentle  mother  and  the  noble  boy 
Please  well  the  Corsican,  and  soon  he  claims 
The  widowed  Josephine  for  his  sweet  bride. 

Ah !  was  it  true  that  he  so  stern  of  heart, 

Did  mark  the  guileless  beauty  of  thy  soul, 

And  from  ambition's  lofty  eyrie  stoop 

To  win  thy  changeless  love,  sweet  Josephine  I 

That  thou  with  woman's  deep,  confiding  love, 

Didst  trust  thine  all  of  earthly  happiness 

"With  him  whose  haughty  soul  shrank  not  at  thought 

Of  human  woe,  but  on  o'er  broken  hearts, 

And  hopes,  to  gain  himself  a  name,  he  led 

His  band  of  warriors  true,  to  victory  1 

Allied  to  him,  she  feared,  admired,  and  loved ; 
How  changeful  were  the  scenes  through  which  she 

passed ! 

Ere  she  had  been  full  thirteen  days  a  bride, 
The  war-trump  sounded  on  Napoleon's  ear ; 


JOSEPHINE.  295 

At  his  command  the  warrior's  heart  revived, 
And  courage  fired  his  soul,  and  where  he  led, 
His  brave,  true-hearted  soldiers  followed  him, 
And  distant  nations  trembled  at  his  word, 
And  kings,  kingdoms,  and  thrones  to  him  resigned. 

Eetiring,  wearied  with  the  battle's  din, 

He  sought  his  home.     The  care-worn  warrior  found 

A  home  of  peace,  and  love,  and  happiness  ; 

But  soon  new  schemes  Napoleon's  thoughts  engage ; 

And  foiled  in  his  design,  to  with  England  war, 

He  joins  his  splendid  army,  and  his  fleet, 

And  hastes  to  the  fair  land  of  Pyramids. 

One  bright  Spring  morning  ere  the  sun  arose, 

Beheld  his  hosts  full  forty  thousand  strong, 

With  haste  uplift  their  banners,  and  away. 

The  gorgeous  pageantry  whose  gleaming  swords    . 

Eeflect  Aurora's  dazzing  beams,  moves  on, 

While  whitened  sails,  and  "  streamers  gay,"  soon  lost 

Far  in  the  distance  of  the  heaving  sea, 

All  cheerily  float  upon  the  morning  breeze. 

What  hopes  and  fears  were  mingled  in  the  breast 

Of  her  who  watched  with  eager  gaze  the  sail 


296  JOSEPHINE. 

Which  was  unfurled  to  bear  to  distant  climes 
A  husband  and  a  child ! 

Now  like  a  wreath  of  gleaming  stars,  afar 

The  crescent  armament  shines,  and  then  no  more 

Is  seen  by  her  who  anxious  gazes  still ; 

Yet  hope  unfurls  a  snowy  sail,  and  points 

To  a  glad  meeting  'neath  an  eastern  sky  ; 

For  soon  the  wife  and  mother  o'er  the  sea 

With  "  wealth  of  love,"  though  less  of  pomp,  would 

speed, 

To  meet  perchance  beneath  the  Pyramids'  shade, 
Or  on  Mount  Tabor's  side,  her  absent  ones.* 

The  armament,  by  prosperous  gales  advanced, 
At  length  is  landed  on  a  foreign  shore ; 
And  lo !  from  where  the  infant  Saviour  found 
A  home,  brave  Kleber's  thousands  march  to  the 
plain; 

*  Josephine  had  obtained  Bonaparte's  permission  to  follow  him  to 
Egypt,  but  while  at  the  springs  of  Plombieres,  whither  she  had  re 
paired  for  her  health,  she  was  so  severely  injured  by  the  fall  of  a  bal 
cony,  as  to  be  detained  until  after  the  Pomona,  in  which  she  was  to 
have  sailed,  had  departed.  Thus,  by  an  apparently  unfortunate  acci 
dent,  was  she  prevented  from  becoming  a  prisoner  to  the  English, 
who  captured  the  frigate. 


JOSEPHINE.  297 

But  down  from  Tabor's  consecrated  hights, 

Where  Peter,  John,  and  James  with  Jesus  stood, 

When  Moses  and  Blias  came,  enrobed 

In  glorious  garments  such  as  angels  wear, 

And  with  the  Saviour  talked,  while  a  bright  cloud 

The  sacred  mountain-top  did  overshade ; 

With  gleaming  "scimitars  uplifted"  high, 

Twelve  thousand  furious  riders  eager  leap 

Upon  the  foe,  with  hosts  of  infantry. 

The  cannon's  steady  fire  swift  thins  their  ranks, 

Till  fallen  riders  with  their  steeds  are  piled 

A  rampart  high  around  the  valiant  French. 

The  "  cannon's  thunder,"  and  the  trumpet's  sound, 
"  Six  dreadful  hours"  are  mingled,  while  the  smoke 
Of  battle  curls  and  rises  o'er  the  field. 

Silent  on  Tabor's  hight  Napoleon  sat, 
And  gazed  upon  the  dreadful  scene  below, 
Then  from  the  mountain's  top  "  one  charge"  pro 
claimed 

Him  near — his  hosts,  well-disciplined,  advance, 
And  pour  their  fury  on  the  trembling  foe, 
And  victor's  shouts  are  heard,  while  swiftly  back 

To  Jordan's  brink  the  wearied  Turks  retire. 
13* 


298  JOSEPHINE. 

In  Egypt,  far-famed  land  of  pyramids, 
Those  grand  and  silent  monuments  of  power, 
Which  had  withstood  the  war  of  elements, 
Age  after  age,  with  their  "  resistless  charge" 
Resound,  erewhile  the  Mamelukes  so  brave, 
Behold  their  native  land  all  desolate, 
And  round  their  leaders  rally,  trained  for  fight. 

The  victory  they  gain,  and  rumors  fly 
Across  the  sea,  of  Bonaparte's  defeat. 
They  who  with  welcome  shout  had  greeted  him 
In  prosperous  days,  forget  his  daring  deeds, 
Nor  think  he  yet  will  come  triumphant  home. 
A  people  who  well-nigh  proclaimed  him  God, 
Now  weave  for  him  a  coronet  of  thorns ; 
His  wife  forsake,  or  coldly  on  her  look, 
Or,  envious  of  his  power,  would  spoil  his  peace, 
And  rob  him  of  the  happiness  of  home. 
But  dare  they  speed  their  arrows  to  the  heart 
Of  innocence,  and  rend  domestic  ties  ? 
Ay,  envious  and  malicious  souls  there  be, 
Who,  gazing  on  her  loveliness  and  grace, 
Dare  kindle  in  her  absent  husband's  heart 
The  raging  fire  of  cruel  jealousy. 


JOSEPHINE.  299 

But  while  his  foes  rejoice  in  his  defeat, 
Napoleon  to  the  shores  of  France  doth  come ; 
One  "  telegraphic  line"  proclaims  him  there  !* 
The  gay  saloon  had  charms  for  Josephine 
No  more — with  haste  she  "  whispered  her  adieus," 
And  swift  as  couriers  fly  with  tidings  glad, 
She  flew  to  meet  Napoleon  on  his  way. 
Preceding  her  to  those  deserted  halls, 
The  fire  of  jealousy  she  sought  to  quench, 
Into  a  flame  was  fanned,  for  foes  were  leagued 
To  chafe  his  wearied  spirit  with  their  lies  I 
No  word  of  welcome,  and  no  kind  embrace, 
He  gave — the  long  sad  hours  of  absence  were 
Eepaid  with  cruel  frowns  and  solitude. 

Two  weary  days  in  untold  agony 

Passed  on,  while  friends  her  injured  innocence  plead. 

Before  her  swimming  eyes  she  spread  the  words 

Of  love  his  pen  in  distant  lands  had  traced, 

And  with  "  convulsive  sobs"  reviewed  the  change  ; 

Her  gushing  heart  was  full.     In  calmer  mood 

*  The  news  of  Bonaparte's  arrival  was  proclaimed  by  Gohier,  Pre 
sident  of  the  Directory,  at  a  splendid  entertainment  given  by  him,  at 
•which  Josephine  was  a  guest. 


300  JOSEPHINE. 

Napoleon  comes,  and  softly  speaks  her  name — 
One  earnest  glance  of  love — her  tears  are  dried, 
And,  gently  folded  to  his  heart  once  more, 
She  breathes  affection's  language  in  his  ear, 
And  calms  the  fears  malicious  foes  have  raised. 


"While  millions  shout  aloud  the  conqueror's  praise, 
Those  highest  in  the  halls  of  state,  proclaim      — 
Their  hate,   and  wildly  shout,    "  Down  with  the 

tyrant !" 

Till  he  who  quailed  not  in  the  battle  strife, 
Is  filled  with  sudden  fear ;  but  strong  arms 
Rally,  to  bear  him  from  the  perilous  scene  : 
With  words  of  fire  he  bids  his  soldiers — "  On1' 
To  quell  the  raging  storm.    His  will  is  done — 
Around  the  ruler's  head  the  bayonets  gleam — 
The  legislative  halls  are  drenched  with  blood, 
And  anarchy  and  civil  war  have  ceased, 
And  Bonaparte  is  Consul  of  the  French. 

Aspiring  still  to  higher  place,  he  seeks 

A  home  where  fallen  kings  before  him  dwelt. 

The  halls  all  silent  made  when  Louis  fell,* 

*  Tuileries. 


JOSEPHINE.  301 

Must  be  his  home,  and  yet  cockade  and  sword 
Must  take  the  place  of  scepter  and  of  crown-. 
"  EEPUBLIC"  graven  in  gilded  characters 
Upon  those  walls,  completes  the  strange  deceit — 
Gay  banners  float,  and  martial  strains  inspire 
The  throng.     Eepublicans  and  royalists 
Alike  are  with  the  glittering  pageant  pleased : 
Yeterans,  ambassadors,  and  nobles  throng 
The  halls  so  long  deserted,  and  beauty  smiles 
Forgetful  of  the  horrors  of  the  past. 

Where  is  the  sharer  of  Napoleon's  fate  ? 
Arrayed  in  robes  of  simple  white  she  comes : 
Her  dark  brown  tresses  mingle  with  the  pearls 
Around  her  snowy  neck — a  beaming  smile 
Of  welcome,  love,  and  gentle  sympathy, 
Plays  round  her  clear  blue  eyes,  and  rosy  lip ; 
No  pride  or  haughtiness  is  in  her  mien, 
But  gracefully  she  moves  amid  the  throng, 
Honored,  admired,  caressed,  and  loved  by  all, 
But  gentle  now  as  when  the  prison-home 
Of  noble  hearts  was  gladdened  by  her  smile. 

The  grandeur  of  that  gala-day  is  past, 

And  in  Malmaison's  halls  she  "  seeks  repose,'' 


302  JOSEPHINE. 

And  wandering  on  the  borders  of  that  lake 
Whose  glories  Tasso  sung  in  charming  strains, 
Or  gazing  on  the  "  dazzling"  Appenines, 
Whose  dizzy  summits  in  the  "  sunlight"  gleam, 
While  in  the  vale,  the  citron  and  the  vine, 
The  myrtle,  and  the  fragrant  orange  bloom, 
Finds  sweeter  pleasure  than  in  palace  halls, 
Amid  the  flatteries  of  admiring  throngs : 
He  too  whose  wild  ambition  grasped  a  throne, 
Loved  well  the  quiet  of  those  rural  haunts ; 
Yet  when  the  battle's  din  is  raging  round  him, 
What  boots  it  that  a  troubled  heart  is  left 
At  home  ? 

But,  when  the  battle's  din  is  o'er 
Can  he  forget  the  sanctuary  where 
His  holiest  thoughts  are  kindled  ?     Ah !  no,  no  1 
Thoughts  of  his  loving  wife,  and  cherished  home, 
Throw  round  the  warrior's  heart  a  holy  spell. 
But  hark !  the  battle-trump  sounds  forth  once  more, 
And  swift  as  lightnings  course  along  the  heavens, 
He  hastens  on  amid  the  restless  hosts, 
Nor  needs  it  many  words  to  tell  his  will. 

Now  over  hill  and  plain  the  conqueror  leads 


JOSEPHINE.  303 

His  legions  on,  to  zeal  and  courage  fired, 
By  his  life-giving  glance. 

The  veteran  gazes  in  his  flashing  eye, 
And  feels  the  ardor  of  his  youth  return ; 
The  youthful  soldier  climbs  the  dizzy  hights, 
O'er  which  his  brave  commander  fearless  leads. 
On,  on,  o'er  Alpine  hights  enwreathed  with  snow, 
To  Austrian  vales  below,  the  victor  goes  ; 
The  mountain  echoes  waken  at  his  tread, 
The  lofty  peaks  resound  the  artillery's  roar, 
And  martial  strains  inspire  the  struggling  host ; 
The  soaring  "  eagle"  in  her  solitude 
So  proud,  with  wonder  gazes  on  that  host, 
Who  all  obedient  round  their  chieftain  stand, 
Then  sends  her  piercing  cry  adown  the  hills. 
Now  down  the  glittering  glaciers  swift  he  glides ! 
Twelve  days  have  passed,  and  on  Marengo's  plain 
He  waits  the  foe.     Their  glorying  legions  Ml, 
And  Italy  and  Austria  own  his  power. 

Once  more  victorious,  to  France  he  flies  ! 
New  laurels  now  a  grateful  nation  wreathes, 
To  bind  around  his  weary,  toil-worn  brow ; 


304  JOSEPHINE. 

Fair  hands  pluck  flowers,  to  scatter  in  his  path, 
Fair  faces  on  him  smile,  with  cheers  and  shouts 
Of  welcome  the  gay  capital  resounds. 

He  who  escaped  the  poison,  and  the  thrust 
Of  secret  foes,  the  warrior's  death  escaped — 
Escaped  the  strange  machinery  of  death, 
Which  in  his  path  and  Josephine's  was  placed.* 

Cold  January  crowns  him  President, 

And  smiling  May  brings  him  a  Consul's  name. 

Is  he  content  with  these  ? — No  !  twice  three  crowns 

His  strange  ambition  scarce  could  satisfy ; 

Yet  Josephine  still  begs  he  will  not  be 

A  king,  and  well  she  may ;  for  first  a  crown, 

Then  blighted  hopes  and  gloom,  in  dark  array, 

Before  the  vision  of  her  soul  arise. 

No  I  rather  let  a  Bourbon  take  the  throne 

And  spare  to  her  a  husband  dearer  far 

Than  all  the  pomp  and  wealth  of  regal  courts. 

But  soon  her  buoyancy  of  soul  returns, 

*  A  machine,  termed  "  the  infernal  machine,"  which  was  supposed 
to  have  been  built  by  the  Jacobin  party,  for  the  destruction  of 
the  Emperor,  and  which  exploded  between  his  own  and  Josephine's 
carriages,  killing  twenty  persons,  and  wounding  sixty  more. 


JOSEPHINE.  305 

For  Bonaparte  doth  claim  a  brother's  child  * 
As  heir  to  all  the  glory  he  hath  won. 

The  ratification  of  peace  with  England  by  the  treaty  of  Amiens, 
signed  April  25th,  1802,  whereby  the  government  of  France,  as 
a  Republic  was  "  virtually  conceded  to  him, "  had  greatly  strength 
ened  Bonaparte  in  his  growing  power,  but  the  treaty  was  broken, 
and  hostilities  commenced  in  the  spring  of  1803,  previous  to  his  cor 
onation  as  Emperor,  which  took  place  Dec.  2d,  1804. 

Before  the  spirit  eyes  of  Bonaparte, 
Appeared  full  oft  a  gilded  throne  and  crown 
Long  coveted,  which  he  was  fain  to  grasp, 
And  fearing  lest  a  Bourbon  might  usurp 
The  power  which  with  unhappy  Louis  fled, 
Unwisely  counseled  by  pretended  friends, 
He  stained  his  honor  with  a  Bourbon's  blood : 
But  would  the  gentle  nature  of  his  wife 
E'er  countenance  an  act  so  baselj  dark  ? 
Her  noble  soul  recoiled  at  such  a  deed, 
Nor  would  she  step  into  a  gilded  throne 
O'er  bleeding  bodies  of  the  innocent, 
Nor  wear  the  glittering  robes  of  royalty, 

*  The  Prince  Royal  of  Holland,  eldest  son  of  Louis  Bonaparte 
and  Hortense. 


306  JOSEPHINE. 

Nor  hear  the  flattering  shout,  "  Long  live  the  Queen !" 
If  over  bleeding  hearts  her  pathway  lay. 

'Twas  night,  when  from  a  quiet  sleep  they  roused 
The  unsuspecting  Duke,  whose  innocence 
When  he  hi  death  was  sleeping,  well  was  proved. 
His  bravery  had  won  him  ample  praise, 
Whom  jealousy  and  envy  leagued  to  slay. 
With  haste  the  soldiers  bore  him  to  the  fort, 
And  turned  the  ponderous  key  the  grating  lock 
Within,  as  though  he  were  a  traitor  vile : 
Three  weary  days  and  nights  they  kept  a  watch, 
As  they  were  guarding  well  a  criminal, 
And  waited  orders  from  the  capital. 

On  through  the  opening  gateway  of  a  clond 
The  sun  had  passed,  and  stars  were  peering  from 
The  heavens  so  blue,  when  sentence  of  his  death 
Was  sealed.     The ' '  tuneful  birds"  their  morning  son  g 
Had  scarce  begun,  ere  on  his  pallid  brow 
The  soldiers'  gun  the  seal  of  death  had  placed ; 
But  when  his  fatal  hour  was  drawing  near, 
A  little  tress,  perchance  by  his  own  hand 
Was  severed  from  his  fair,  exuberant  locks, 


JOSEPHINE.  307 

And  with  a  message  to  the  Empress  borne, 
To  be  conveyed  to  one  to  him  so  dear, 
For  her  he  fain  would  such  a  death  escape. 

I  seem  to  read  the  lines  he  trembling  traced ; 

"  Oh !  bear,  thou  gentle  one,  these  parting  gifts, 

My  picture,  and  this  tiny  lock  of  hair, 

To  one  most  dear,  who  long  for  me  will  weep ; 

For  by  thine  own  experience  so  sad, 

And  by  thy  woman's  heart,  thou  canst  divine 

The  depth  of  her  unutterable  woe : 

And  when  by  my  unhonored  grave  she  weeps, 

Oh !  tell  her,  what  full  well  she  may  believe, 

That  thou  and  I  are  truly  innocent." 

The  cruel  deed  was  done ! 

Gloom  spread  "  like  darkness  visible"  o'er  France, 
And  he  who  feared  a  Bourbon's  name  and  fame, 
With  keen  remorse  was  stung,  yet  fearing  still 
The  Bourbon's  power,  decreed  that  those  who  might 
Perchance  in  his  own  pathway  stand,  should  die.* 

*  History  informs  us  that  the  Duke  d'Enghien,  a  prince  of  the 
Bourbon  family,  was  arrested  on  the  night  of  March  15th,  1804, 
under  pretense  that  he  designed  to  profit  by  the  movements  of  the 
so-called  conspirators;  and  conveyed  to  the  citadel  of  Strasburg, 


308  JOSEPHINE. 

Soon  regal  titles,  rank,  and  pageantry- 
Effaced  the  name  EEPUBLIC,  which  so  late 
"Was  deemed  the  nation's  glory,  and  the  shout, 
"  Long  live  the  Emperor !"  the  oath  succeeded 
Of  firm  allegiance  "  soldiers,  citizens, 
And  legionaries'5  gave,  while  priestly  hands 
"Were  raised  Jehovah's  blessing  to  invoke : 
Yet  "  dimmer  grew  the  gleams  of  happiness" 
"Which  on  the  Empress'  pathway  shone, 
And  saddening  fears  were  crowding  through  her 
heart. 


At  length  the  coronation  day  arrived : 
The  acme  of  his  grandest  hopes  was  reached. 

where  he  remained  until  the  18th.  Orders  were  given  to  conduct 
him  to  Vincennes,  where  a  pretended  trial  took  place  on  the  night 
of  the  20th,  and  he  was  shot  by  a  file  of  soldiers  at  six  o'clock  on  the 
morning  of  the  21st.  On  hearing  the  news  of  hia  death,  Josephine 
hastened  to  Bonaparte's  apartments  in  great  distress,  and  informed 
him  that  the  Duke  was  dead,  when  he  exclaimed :  "  The  wretches  I 
they  have  been  too  hasty."  He  seems,  however,  to  have  feared  that 
others  might  stand  in  the  way  of  his  advancement,  as  he  "  sanctioned 
the  decree  of  the  special  tribunal,  which  condemned  to  death  twenty" 
of  the  friends  of  the  Bourbon  family,  although  it  was  proved  that 
they  had  merely  met  to  ascertain  the  state  of  public  feeling. 


JOSEPHINE.  309 

"  The  venerable  Pius,"  Pope  of  Rome, 
Must  come  to  share  the  pomp,  and  see  the  crown 
He  may  not  place  upon  the  Emperor's  head. 
Those  walls  that  echoed  forth  the  marriage  chant, 
When  Mary  Queen  of  Scots  in  youthful  bloom 
At  the  altar  stood,  young  Francis'  happy  bride, 
Again  with  anthem  and  with  chant  resound. 
A  silken  robe  of  white,  inwoven  with  gold 
And  precious  stones,  with  crimson  mantle  o'er, 
"With  gold-embroidered  silk,  and  ermine  lined, 
Composed  the  rich  attire  of  Josephine — 
A  belt  of  purest  gold,  with  diamonds  set, 
Was  clasped  around  her  waist,  and  on  her  brow 
A  diadem  of  pearls  and  diamonds  gleamed. 

Napoleon  too, 

A  "  gorgeous  dress,"  and  heavy  mantle  wore, 
And  buskins  white,  embroidered  o'er  with  gold. 
In  mirror-paneled  carriage  moved  they  on, 
By  twice  four  horses  drawn  in  regal  state, 
To  take  a  throne  from  which  a  Bourbon  fell. 

The  impetuous  multitude  forgot  how  late 
They  swore  that  monarchy  should  be  no  more, 
As  loudly  swelled  their  shouts  of  wild  applause, 


310  JOSEPHINE. 

When  the  gay,  proud,  and  glittering  pageant  passed 
To  the  cathedral  decked  so  gorgeously — 
Forgot  they  had  disowned  the  God  of  heaven, 
While  through  the  galleries  of  Notre  Dame, 
The  song  of  jubilee  for  hours  was  poured, 
While  martial  music  echoed  round  the  throne 
So  richly  gilded,  draped,  and  canopied, 
On  which  the  imperial  family  stood  in  state, 
While  on  his  head  the  golden  kingly  crown 
Napoleon  placed,  then  took  the  pearly  crown 
Of  Josephine,  and  touched  it  to  his  own, 
And  placed  it  on  her  brow  while  there  she  knelt ; 
Then  on  the  word  of  (rod  he  laid  his  hand, 
And.swore  his  office  oaths. 

A  shout  arose, 

Prolonged  and  loud,  through  the  cathedral  throng ; 
The  multitude  without  repeated  it ; 
The  artillery's  roar  to  neighboring  realms  proclaimed 
Napoleon's  glory,  and  the  joy  of  France. 

While  Bonaparte  is  feasting  on  his  fame, 
His  wife  alone  with  her  "  own  heart  communes, 
Perchance  with    Heaven." — Her    prison-dream    so 
strange 


JOSEPHINE.  311 

Is  realized,  and  she  is  "  Queen  of  France  1" 
Yes,  yes  !  the  jubilant  and  echoing  shout, 
"  God  bless  the  Empress!"  rings  upon  her  ear, 
And  she  is  queen,  yet  o'er  a  troubled  heart 
Eesplendent  jewels  flash  and  glow. 

She  from 

The  dazzling  eminence  Napoleon's  power 
Had  won,  looked  backward  to  less  splendid  scenes, 
Then  through  the  vista  of  the  future  looked 
With  hope,  and  then  with  strange  appalling  fear ; 
But  yet  scarce  could  she  dream  her  jeweled  crown 
So  soon  would  be  so  thickly  set  with  thorns. 

The  coronation  took  place  December  2d,  1804.  The  treaty  be 
tween  England  and  Sweden  was  concluded  December  3d,  and  war 
declared  between  England  and  Spain,  which  was  commenced  by  the 
English  taking  undue  liberties  with  Spanish  ships. 

Bonaparte  and  Josephine  set  out  for  Milan  in  April.  They  were 
the  guests  of  Cardinal  Fesch  at  Lyons,  from  whence  they  proceeded 
to  Allessandria,  near  the  plain  of  Marengo.  Here  Napoleon  ordered 
the  cap  and  uniform  which  he  wore  on  that  battle-field,  and  in  im 
agination  reenjoyed  his  victory.  "Two  elegant  sedans"  were  or 
dered  from  Turin,  to  assist  the  imperial  travelers  on  their  journey  over 
the  Alps,  but  Josephine  with  her  buoyant  spirit,  and  love  of  nature, 
preferred,  whenever  practicable,  to  climb  the  hights  by  the  side  of 
him  who  amid  stirring  scenes  had  twice  before  ascended  them. 


312  JOSEPHINE. 

Another  coronation-day  has  come ! 
The  "  iron  circlet"  from  a  priestly  hand,  » 

Napoleon  takes,  to  place  it  on  his  brow, 
Declaring,  "  God  has  given,  and  woe  to  him 
Who  dares  gainsay."* 

Another  gala-day 

Is  past,  and  yet  another  quickly  comes ; 
The  crown  a  second  father's  hand  bestows, 
Eugene  receives — the  crown  of  Italy, 
And  banqueting  and  mirth  the  city  fill. 

With  a  mother's  pride  did  Josephine  behold 

Such  honors  on  her  only  son  conferred ; 

Yet  wearied  with  such  ceaseless  rounds  of  pomp, 

A  rural  banquet  on  Oronto's  shore, 

Spread  out  beneath  a  forest  canopy, 

Exempt  from  all  the  forms  of  royalty, 

Where  "  ocean  murmurs"  fell  upon  the  ear, 

And  Nature  ruled,  pleased  well  her  simple  tastes : 

Napoleon  too,  apart  from  busier  scenes, 

Found  ample  space  for  contemplation  here, 

*  "During  the  ceremony"  of  coronation,  Bonaparte  "repeated  in 
Italian  these  words — '  God  has  given  it — woe  to  the  gainsayer  j'  "  he 
also  raised  the  crown  to  Josephine's  head. 


SCENES  IN  3GE  LIFE  OF  MOSES.  265 

And  there  for  forty  days  and  nights  to  dwell, 
While  day  by  day  Jehovah's  voice  he  heard. 

But  hark !  what  mean  those  noisy  shouts  which  greet 
His  ear,  as  he  descends,  while  in  his  hands 
lie  holds  those  tables  graven  by  his  Grod  ? 

Hush !  can  it  be  so  soon  their  faith  is  gone  ? 

That  God's  elect  around  a  molten  calf 

Are  dancing  with  a  vile  idolatry  ? 

Had  they  forgotten  quite  the  love  and  power 

Of  Him  who  with  a  mighty  hand  so  late  . 

Had  brought  them  forth  from  slavery, 

And  who  with  outstretched  arm  their  foes  destroyed? 

Can  they  so  soon  reject  him  and  forget, 

Choosing  a  molten  calf  of  ear-rings  made  ? 

Dare  they  before  its  altar  meanly  bow, 

To  give  it  praise  due  to  Jehovah's  name  ? 

A  righteous  anger  burned  in  Moses'  soul, 
And  to  the  ground  he  dashed  beneath  the  mount 
Those  stony  tables  by  the  Lord  engraven : 
The  molten  image  which  they  catted  their  God, 
He  burned  to  powder  then  before  their  eyes, 
12 


r     *> 

266  SCENES  IN  THE  LIFE  OF  MOSES. 


And  bade  them  drink  the  idol's  ashes  there. 
With  bitter  grief  and  with  repentant  words, 
He  sought  for  them  forgiveness  of  the  Lord. 
Ay,  hear  him  plead !     So  burdened  was  his  soul, 
That  fain  would  he  have  his  own  name  blotted  out 
From  God's  own  book,  if  they  be  not  forgiven. 

God  answering,  promised  him  an  angel  guide, 
The  judgments  of  the  Lord  repentance  wrought 
Within  the  sinners'  hearts,  and  made  them  mourn 
The  absence  of  their  God. 

Again  Jehovah  spake  as  friend  to  friend, 
When  Moses  in  the  tabernacle  stood, 
Erewhile  the  cloudy  pillar  at  its  door, 
Proclaimed  the  presence  of  Almighty  God, 
And  awed  the  waiting  host  of  Israel. 

Two  stony  tables  like  the  first,  whereon 

Were  God's  commandments  writ,  he  bade  him  hew, 

And  on  Mount  Sinai's  top  present  himself 

Alone  before  the  Lord. 

At  early  dawn 

The  stony  tables  in  his  hand  he  took, 


SCENES  IN  THE   LIFE  OF  MOSES.  267 

And  to  the  holy  mountain's  hight  ascended, 
And  God  descended  in  a  cloud,  and  with. 
Him  stood :  His  attributes  to  him  proclaimed, 
While  Moses  bowed  his  head  and  worshiped  there, 
With  penitent  confession  and  with  prayer, 
And  God  commands  and  promises  there  gave — • 
Again  upon  the  tables  wrote  the  law 
Which  he  the  Lord  of  Israel  ordained. 

For  forty  days  and  forty  nights  he  ate 

No  bread,  nor  water  drank.    His  work  complete, 

He  to  the  camp  returned,  nor  knew  his  face 

Had  borrowed  radiance  from  the  glorious  cloud 

In  which  he  had  encircled  been  so  long, 

Till  awe  and  fear  the  congregation  in 

His  presence  felt,  proclaimed  they  knew  that  God 

Had  been  with  Moses  on  the  mountain's  top. 

At  length  the  tabernacle  was  complete, 
And  willing  hands  the  Ark  of  God  upreared, 
And  o'er  it  spread  the  vail — the  table  brought, 
And  golden  incense,  altar,  candlestick, 
And  altar  of  burnt  offering  set  in  place : 
The  pillars  raised,  and  bars  and  sockets  set, 


268  SCENES  IN  THE  LIFE   OF  MOSES. 

And  o'er  them  Moses  "  spread  abroad  the  tent," 

And  covered  it  as  God  the  Lord  commanded. 

The  show-bread  was  in  order  placed,  and  lamps 

Were  lighted,  and  the  smoke  of  incense  rose. 

Then  came  the  glory  of  the  Lord — a  cloud 

Descending  rested  on  the  finished  tent : 

So  bright  it  shone,  none  dared  to  enter  there. 

That  radiant  cloud  henceforth  their  guide  to  be, 

Which  like  a  fiery  pillar  gleamed  by  night, 

And  on  the  tabernacle  rested  oft, 

Or  was  upraised,  to  bid  them  onward  go. 

Again  the  Israelites  craved  other  food 
Than  that  which  God  to  them  had  given, 
And  a  consuming  fire  proclaimed  that  he 
With  them  indignant  was ;  but  Moses  prayed, 
And  the  fire  was  quenched.     O'erburdened  with  his 

cares, 

And  sore  displeased  with  the  complaining  host, 
He  plead  with  God,  and  God  deliverance  gave, 
When  in  a  cloud  again  he  did  descend, 
With  Moses  spake,  and  of  his  spirit  took, 
And  to  the  "  seventy  elders"  gave,  that  they 
Might  his  assistants  be :  then  in  the  camp, 


SCENES  IN  THE   LIFE   OF  MOSES.  269 

And  in  the  tabernacle,  prophesied 

They  whom  the  Lord  ordained  to  his  helpers  be  j 

But  jealous  for  the  honor  of  his  friend, 

Good  Joshua  begged  that  he  would  bid  them  cease. 

But  Moses  quite  above  such  envious  souls, 

As  would  the  progress  of  all  good  retard, 

If  all  the  praise  be  not  on  them  bestowed, 

Keplied  as  well  became  a  noble  soul, 

"Who,  conscious  of  his  merit,  needed  not, 

NOT  coveted  the  praise  to  others  due.* 


A  brother  and  a  sister  coveted 

Honors  on  him  bestowed,  whose  babyhood 

With  deep  solicitude  and  love  they  watched  I 

Again  in  a  bright  cloud  the  Lord  appeared, 

And  greater  honors  on  his  friend  conferred ; 

His  praises  spoke  to  those  who  should  his  friends 

Have  been,  but  who  for  envy  acted  foes. 

The  glorious  cloud  which  oft  had  been  their  guide, 

And  had  proclaimed  that  God  was  present  there, 

Was  gone,  and  Miriam  before  them  stood, 

*Num.  11:29. 


270  SCENES  IN  THE   LIFE   OF  MOSES. 

A  leper,  "  white  as  snow."     Then  Aaron  knew, 

And  Miriam,  that  God  the  judgment  sent. 

He  willingly  his  sin  and  hers  confessed — 

No  vengeful  words  from  Moses'  tongue  were  heard, 

But  to  the  Heavenly  Healer  rose  his  prayer, 

For  her  whose  envy  brought  the  dire  disease, 

And  healing  Q-od  in  answering  mercy  sent. 


Twelve  chosen  rulers  of  the  tribes  were  sent, 

The  promised  land  to  spy,  and  bring  report. 

The  rich  ripe  cluster  on  their  shoulders  borne, 

And  figs  and  pomegranates,  told  how  rich 

In  choicest  fruits  the  land  of  Canaan  was ; 

Yet  they  who  weak  in  faith  beheld  the  sons 

Of  Anak,  giants  tall,  brought  evil  news — 

The  unbelieving  tempted  to  complain, 

Until  their  murmurings  and  their  wails  the  Lord 

Provoked,  and  in  his  wrath  Jehovah  swore 

Their  faithless  prophecies  should  true  be  proved, 

And  they  all  in  the  wilderness  should  fall, 

"Who  from  the  land  for  which  they  pined  had  come, 

When  with  his  hand  so  strong  he  brake  their  bonds, 

And  bade  the  wronged  and  the  enslaved  go  free. 


SCENES  IN  THE  LIFE   OF  MOSES.  271 

Yea,  all  who  then  a  score  of  years  had  seen, 
Save  they  who  strong  in  faith  declared  the  Lord 
Was  their  defense,  nor  need  they  fear  those  men 
Of  stature  tall,  if  God  in  them  delight. 

The  cloud  so  glorious  and  magnificent, 
Before  the  murmuring,  unbelieving  host 
Appeared,  and  God  to  Moses  promise  gave 
Of  future  glory,  but  God's  glory  first 
He  sought,  and  strong  petitions  from  his  lips 
Jehovah's  dreadful  wrath  in  part  averted, 
When  he  swore  to  disinherit  and  to  smite 
The  guilty  who  had  oft  his  glory  seen, 
But  doubting  reprobates  and  rebels  proved. 


Weary  yet  patient  still,  he  sought  their  good, 
And  meekly  with  their  wrongs  and  weakness  bore ; 
But  envious  souls,  of  power  uncoveted 
Grown  jealous,  dared  to  slander  and  rebel, 
And  sought  to  themselves  his  glory  to  transfer : 
He  bade  twelve  score  and  ten  ambitious  men 
Their  smoking  censers  bring  before  the  Lord. 
They  in  the  holy  tabernacle's  door 


272  SCEXES  IN  THE   LIFE   OF  MOSES. 

Dared  stand  with  Aaron,  chosen  priest  of  Q-od : 

Again  "  the  glory  of  the  Lord  appeared," 

And  he  to  Moses  and  to  Aaron  spake, 

And  claimed  them  his  appointed,  chosen  ones ; 

Again  they  for  "  the  congregation"  prayed ; 

Then  they  who  were  all  guiltless  of  the  wrong, 

From  the  tabernacle  of  those  erring  ones 

Eemoved,  and  an  avenging  fire  from  God 

Those  self-appointed,  God-defying  priests  consumed. 

The  yawning  earth  oped  wide  her  mouth,  and  in 

A  moment,  "Korah  and  his  company," 

"Alive  into  the  pit"  the  Lord  prepared, 

Went  down,  and  o'er  them  closed  the  groaning  earth, 

While  shrieks  of  wild  despair  were  echoed  round, 

Until  for  fear  fled  all  who  heard  their  cries. 

The  brazen  censers  Eliazar  took, 

And  "  made  broad  plates"  which,  o'er  the  altar  spread, 

Were  a  memorial  to  the  Israelites, 

That  none  save  those  whom  God  appointed,  should 

The  holy  incense  burn  before  the  Lord. 


Again  the  cloud  is  lifted,  and  the  ark 
Is  solemnly  and  slowly  borne  along, 


SCENES  IN  THE  LIFE   OF  MOSES.  273 

And  Israel  like  one  vast  funeral  throng, 

Doth  pause  upon  the  mount  where  Moses  sat, 

With  hands  uplifted  till  the  setting  sun, 

When  Israel  'gainst  Amalek  prevailed. 

With  breathless  awe  "  the  sons  of  Kohath"  pause, 

And  from  their  shoulders  take  the  sacred  ark : 

No  more  within  the  vail  must  Aaron  go, 

Nor  e'er  again  the  holy  incense  burn ; 

His  priestly  robes  must  now  be  laid  aside ; 

His  mantle  on  the  shoulders  of  his  son 

Must  fall,  while  he,  their  God-anointed  priest, 

In  Heaven's  appointed  place  and  hour  must  die : 

And  he  who  shared  his  sin  at  Meribah, 

Must  take  his  sacerdotal  robes  away ; 

And  mark  the  hue  of  death  steal  o'er  his  brow, 

For  God  hatfi  spoken  it. 

Now  all  is  still, 

"  Nature  herself  is  dumb."     No  tolling  bell 
Of  his  departure  speaks.     No  gathered  throng 
Moves  tearfully  and  slow  around  his  bier. 
"  The  house  of  Israel"  mourns,  but  not  around 
His  sepulcher.    His  brother  and  his  son, 
Speechless  and  sad,  unto  the  camp  return, 

While  holy  angel  watchers  from  the  sky, 
12* 


274  SCENES  IN  THE   LIFE  OF  MOSES. 

Convey  the  blood- washed  soul  of  him  whose  hands 
So  oft  the  morning  sacrifice  had  slain, 
Up,  up  before  the  throne  of  Him  whose  blood 
Alone  can  wash  the  guilt-stained  soul  from  sin. 


Again  the  seeds  of  discontent  are  sown, 

And  murmuring  Israel  cries:    "Why  brought'st 

thou  us 

From  Egypt  in  this  wilderness  to  die  ? 
There  is  no  bread,  nor  is  there  water  here ; 
Our  souls  this  manna  loathe — 'tis  bread  so  light." 
Then  fiery  serpents  with  their  poisoned  sting, 
God  sends  to  chide  them  for  their  murmuring : 
In  torture,  and  in  pangs  of  death  severe, 
They  writhe,  and  beg  that  Moses  pray  for  them. 
He  prays.     His  prayer  is  heard,  and  Gk>d  commands 
That  he  a  fiery,  brazen  serpent  raise, 
That  they  whose  eyes  so  fast  are  growing  dim 
In  death,  may  upward  look  and  live. 


Now  Moses  soon  his  office  must  resign, 

For  Death  will  claim  what  God  has  given  him ; 


SCENES  IN  THE   LIFE   OF  MOSES.  275 

Yet  still  solicitous  for  Israel, 

He  pleads  with  (rod  a  leader  to  appoint, 

To  take  his  place  when  he  in  death  shall  sleep ; 

Then  God  commanded  that  his  hands  he  lay 

On  Joshua's  head — his  honor  to  his  friend 

Impart,  and  give  him  charge  in  Israel's  sight. 


At  length  the  hour  approached  when  he  must  leave 
The  congregation  which  so  long  he'd  led : 
Meekly  before  them  he^  his  sin  confessed, 
"When  he  with  hand  uplifted  smote  the  rock, 
And  took  the  glory  when  the  waters  flowed — 
A  song  of  praise  to  Gk>d  before  them  spoke, 
His  admonitions  and  his  blessings  gave : 
Perchance  with  loving  words  then  bade  them  all 

A  fond  farewell. 

Now  silent  and  alone, 

From  Moab's  plains  to  Nebo's  hights  he  climbs, 
And  from  Mount  Pisgah's  top  he  gazes  o'er 
Unto  the  land  the  Lord  to  Israel  gave, 
And  then  content  to  die,  his  limbs  he  folds, 
And  lays  him  down  to  sleep  the  sleep  of  death. 
No  priestly  rites  around  his  grave  proclaim 


276  SCENES  IN  THE   LIFE   OF  MOSES. 

He  was  an  honored  one  'mid  Israel's  ranks, 
But  God,  the  Lord  Jehovah  buried  him. 

Then  sleep  on !  on  the  holy  mountain's  hight, 
Thou  in  thy  dreamless  grave-sleep  long  hast  slept ! 
No  gilded  tomb  e'er  marked  thy  final  resting-place, 
Nor  those  who  loved  thee  wept  around  thy  grave ; 
No  sculptured  monument  may  e'er  relate 
Thy  deeds  of  glory — but  thy  name's  enrolled 
Among  the  spirits  pure  around  God's  throne ; 
Thy  angel  harp  is  sweetly  sounding  there, 
Leading,  perchance,  some  holy  spirit  band, 
Which  erst  thy  voice  did  lead  by  Marah's  stream, 
Or  Elim's  wells,  and  holy  mountains'  sides ; 
Leading  close  by  the  streams  of  Paradise, 
In  chorus  higher,  freer,  holier, 
Than  ever  sounded  forth  from  earthly  harp, 
The  spirits  of  the  just  made  pure  in  heaven. 
That  Eye  omniscient  which  doth  never  sleep, 
Shall  guard  the  place  where  thou  for  ages  long 
Hast  slept  so  silently  and  peacefully, 
Till  the  archangel's  lofty  trump  shall  sound : 
Then  clad  in  robes  of  immortality, 
Thy  sleeping  dust,  united  once  again 


SCENES   IN  THE   LIFE   OF  MOSES.  277 

To  the  pure  spirit  which  hath,  dwelt  long,  long 
With  God,  and  seraph  bands  around  his  throne, 
With  loud  exultant  shout  shall  joyous  rise, 
To  dwell  for  evermore  in  Paradise. 


Irrface, 


IN  presenting  to  my  readers  a  poetical  biography  of  the  "  first  wife 
of  Napoleon,"  I  do  not  profess,  as  far  as  historical  facts  are  concerned, 
to  relate  any  thing  new.  These  facts  have  been  gleaned  from  various 
sources,  and  are  doubtless  familiar  to  many  of  my  readers. 

There  are  several  reasons  why  I  have  taken  pleasure  in  weaving 
them  into  verse,  one  of  which  is,  that  the  task  has  afforded  me  an 
opportunity  carefully  to  observe  the  various  phases  of  a  life  so  event 
ful,  and  also  more  minutely  to  study  the  character  of  one  who  was  in 
so  many  respects  a  "model  woman  ;"  and  who  in  all  the  situations 
in  which  she  was  placed,  from  the  grateful  receiver  of  a  much-needed 
article  of  apparel  for  her  daughter,  from  a  kind-hearted  sailor,  to  the 
wearer  of  a  queenly  diadem,  and  the  almoner  of  far  richer  gifts  to 
the  needy,  manifested  the  same  gentleness  of  spirit,  the  same  affec 
tionate  heart,  and  the  same  nicely  discriminating  judgment.  NOT 
were  these,  and  kindred  traits  of  character  less  noticeable^  when,  in 
her  exile  from  the  throne  and  heart  of  an  ambitious  Emperor,  she 
found  a  humbler  home  within  the  walls  of  Malmaison. 

Indeed,  there  is  no  point  of  her  history  more  truly  interesting  than 
that  in  which,  though  a  weight  of  sorrow  which  no  human  hand 
could  uplift,  oppressed  her  spirit,  she  seemed  forgetful  of  her  own 
woes,  while  administering  to  the  wants,  and  enhancing  the  pleasures 
of  others — sharing  alike  the  joys  and  sorrows  of  those  with  whom  she 
came  in  contact  in  her  comparatively  humble  sphere. 


PREFACE. 


Those  who  have  attempted  thus  to  weave  together  a  history,  know 
full  well  how  difficult,  nay,  at  times,  even  impossible,  it  is  to  intro 
duce  a  mere  narration  of  events  into  a  poem,  in  any  other  than  prosaic 
style. 

In  some  instances,  as  it  will  be  seen,  I  have  preferred  to  lay  aside 
rhythm,  and  connect  events  of  history  by  simple  prose. 

Hoping  that  those  who  are  already  familiar  with  the  history  of  the 
first  Empress  of  the  French,  may  find  some  pleasure  in  reviewing  it 
in  a  condensed  form,  and  that  those  who  are  not,  may  at  least  find 
the  history  of  the  poem  of  some^interest,  I  submit  it  to  the  perusal 
of  those  into  whose  hands  it  may  chance  to  falL  S.  S.  B. 


n 


AT  Martinico,  sunny,  sea-girt  isle, 
Fair  Josephine's  glad  childhood  passed  away ; 
That  isle's  sweet  birds  and  flowers  companions  dear, 
Her  heart  as  joyous,  light,  and  free  as  they. 

Oft  on  those  rock-bound  shores  with  buoyant  step, 
Thou  lovedst  to  roam  and  watch  the  billowy  tide, 
That  "fitfully"  tossed  up  the  "feathery  spray," 
While  sea-birds  whirled  far,  far  above  the  wave, 
Then  stooped  to  bathe  their  wings,  and  higher  soared, 
While  their  wild  notes  with  the  hoarse  tide  kept 

tune; 

Then  didst  thou  wreathe  the  fairest  wild-field  flowers, 
And  homeward  hie,  sure  of  a  father's  smile,* 
And  bounding  to  his  side  with  fond  caress, 
Thy  treasures  twine  amid  his  locks  of  gray. 

*  Josephine  is  said  to  have  been  a  special  favorite  with  her  father, 
who  was  usually  somewhat  stern  in  his  manners. 


284  JOSEPHINE. 

So  bright  was  thy  life's  happy  morning  ray, 
And  fleetly  passed  thy  joyous  youth  away, 
Until  "  the  holiest  passion  of  the  soul" 
Thy  spirit  moved,  and  to  its  sweet  control 
Thy  gentle  heart  was  bowed,  for  Love  did  bind 
Young,  ardent  hearts  whose  strings  were  glad  en 
twined. 

As  sudden  darkness  palls  the  sun  at  noon, 

So  her  young  heart  was  wrapped  in  darkening  gloom, 

For  her  youthful  love  was  from  her  presence  barred  I 

No  interchange  of  holy  thoughts  might  tell, 

Though  absent,  she  was  yet,  as  ever,  dear ; 

But  heart  to  heart  may  be  united  still, 

Even  when  between  the  loving  and  the  loved 

Strong  barriers  interpose,  and  billows  roll : 

And  as  a  priceless  jewel  from  the  sea, 

Encased  in  finest  gold,  though  hid  from  sight, 

Is  brilliant  still,  and  still  is  highly  prized ; 

So  purest  love  with  many  tears  enshrined 

From  mortal  gaze,  is  still  a  priceless  gem, 

Nor  for  its  close  concealment  valued  less.* 

*  Win.  Do  K.'s  letters  to  Josephine  were  intercepted  by  her 
parents,  but  although  she  received  no  intelligence  from  him,  she  was 
firm  in  the  belief  that  he  yet  loved  her. 


JOSEPHINE.  285 

Though  in  her  heart's  sealed  casket  love  was  locked, 

Its  fire  was  burning  with  a  glowing  flame, 

Which  Death  alone  had  power  to  quench ! 

For  ah !  can  ever  love  within  the  heart, 

Born  of  a  holy,  sweet,  confiding  trust, 

And  nurtured  with  the  fairest  flowers  of  Hope, 

And  oft  bedewed  with  cherished  promises, 

Be  lulled  to  slumber  deep,  save  when  the  heart 

In  Death's  domain  shall  find  a  resting-place  ? 

Yet  mutual  love  so  deep  is  not  in  vain, 

Even  when  the  hopes  so  high  are  not  fulfilled : 

It  hath  a  hallowing  influence  on  the  soul, 

And  sweetly  from  itself  draws  out  the  heart, 

To  seek  its  own  high  bliss  in  another's  joy. 


Her  island  home  for  her  had  fewer  charms, 
And  pensive  grew  her  soul,  when  far  away 
Was  he  who  won  her  love ;  and  distant  France, 
Her  friends  agree,  shall  henceforth  be  her  home. 

Now  Martinico's  shores  fade  from  her  sight ! 
The  starry  light  around  the  mast-head  playing,* 

*  A  light  resembling  a  crown,  which  is  said  to  have  appeared  on 
the  mast  about  the  time  of  leaving  port,  and  which  was  regarded  by 
the  seamen  as  foretelling  a  coronation. 


286  JOSEPHINE. 

She  heedeth  not,  though  others  wondering  gaze 
At  the  bright  mimic  crown  above  her  head  ; 
Nor  heeds  the  booming  sea.     The  wave's  wild  roar  ? 
She  hears  it  not,  her  thoughts  are  far  away. 

High  beat  the  waves — the  bark  was  driven  on 
By  winds  which  merrier  hearts  propitious  deemed. 
A  wealth  of  purest  bliss  has  memory  stored  I 
Alone  she  feasts  on  memory's  cherished  sweets, 
Yet  sighs  that  they  for  gall  must  be  exchanged. 
Doth  past  to  future  lend  a  brighter  hue, 
When  to  a  stranger  land,  friends  welcome  her  ? 
Perchance  it  might,  could  she  but  surely  know 
An  earlier  love  the  past  had  quite  forgot  I 
She  then  might  proudly  to  another  turn, 
Perchance — but  oh  !  what  untold  misery 
She  feels,  to  tread  the  self-same  streets  he  treads, 
And  feel  the  love-light  brightly  burns  within 
His  soul,  and  yet  she  may  not  meet  a  glance 
To  tell  of  tried  affection,  yet  most  true.* 

*  Wm.  De  K.  visited  Paris  after  Josephine's  arrival,  and  she 
learned  that  his  feelings  towards  her  remained  unchanged,  and  that 
he  made  frequent  attempts  to  see  her ;  but  as  a  large  estate  was  to  bo 
his  father's  "  on  condition  that  he  married  a  niece  of  the  testator,'1 
his  parents  were  unwilling  to  have  him  marry  Josephine. 


JOSEPHINE.  287 

Within  the  cloister's  dimly  lighted  cell, 

She  "  sought  repose,"  and  schooled  an  aching  heart, 

Half-striving  to  forget,  yet  loving  still, 

Whom  it  was  joy  yet  misery  to  love, 

Since  he  her  heart  and  hand  may  never  claim ; 

Yet,  though  her  earliest  love  was  not  forgot,  - 

Again  love  lit  her  eye,  and  warmed  her  heart ; 

Obedient  to  the  wish  of  friends,  she  stood 

The  veiled  bride  of  a  buried  sister's  love, 

And  in  the  "  brilliant  circles"  of  a  queen, 

Much  praise  and  admiration  won. 

By  nature's  beauties,  and  rich  works  of  art, 
Surrounded,  and  though  loved  by  many  friends, 
A  cruel  dart  from  envy's  quiver  flew 
To  pierce  her  heart,  and  he  to  her  most  dear, 
Did  strangely  doubt  her  deep  and  truthful  love, 
And  rival  charms  engrossed  Beauharnais'  thoughts.* 

The  happy  circle  where  her  brightest  hopes 
Were  centered,  then  was  rudely  broken  up, 

*  Through  the  "  maliciousness  of  Madame  de  V.,"  who  is  said  to 
have  "possessed  the  affections"  of  Beauharnais,  he  became  jealous  of 
Wm.  de  K. 


288  JOSEPHINE. 

And  she  to  earliest  friends,  and  childhood's  home, 

Now  lone  and  tempest-tossed  on  sorrow's  sea, 

Returns  in  sad — yea,  saddest  widowhood. 

One  only  of  the  jewels  of  her  home 

Was  spared  to  her — her  daughter  dear  and  true, 

Far  o'er  the  deep  might  bear  her  company. 

Though  'mid  the  sympathy  of  early  friends 
She  found  "repose,"  and  all  around  was  calm, 
A  restless  wave  of  grief  within  her  heart 
Was  beating — a  tide  which  naught  save  love 
To  her  dear  husband's  heart  restored,  could  quell. 

Years  fled* — at  length  the  joyful  tidings  came, 
That  he  from  far  would  gladly  welcome  her ; 
Sweet  as  the  zephyr's  breath  when  soft  it  steals 
O'er  fragrant  flowers,  into  the  captive's  cell — 
Bright  as  the  morning  beam  on  the  mountain-top 
Appears  unto  the  care-worn  mariner's  eye, 
Who  long    through  stormy  nights    hath  anxious 

watched, 

So  bright — so  beautiful  that  message  was 
To  her,  who  long  in  loneliness  had  pined, 

*  Two  years. 


JOSEPHINE. 


And  as  they  wandered  on  that  isle,  the  poor 
Oft  shared  the  bounty  of  "  the  royal  pair." 
Tidings  !  twice-conquered  Austria  rebels, 
And  Eussia,  too,  is  filled  with  discontent  ; 
They  may  not  tarry  'neath  Italian  skies, 
But  haste  away 

To  "the  imperial  travelers," 
Genoa  gladly  grants  a  transient  home  ; 
But  Bonaparte  a  gathering  tempest  sees, 
And  may  not  'mid  the  orange  gardens  stay.* 
With  lightning  speed  his  carriage  flies  along  ! 
A  pause  ;  "  the  foaming  steeds"  must  be  released  ; 
"  The  smoking  axle"  drench,  and  then  away  ! 
"  On  !  on  !  we  do  not  move!"  the  Emperor  cries, 
Although  with  hurrying  lash  the  steeds  are  driven. 

Along  the  verdant  bank  of  the  beauteous  Rhine, 
Vast  multitudes  of  soldiers  wait  his  word,f 
Then  rush  impetuous  on  to  deadly  strife. 

The  Empress  as  the  regent  of  the  realm, 

*  The  Genoese  prepared  "  floating  islands  of  orange  trees  and 
flowers,"  to  enhance  the  pleasure  of  Josephine's  stay  with  them. 

f  "  Twenty  thousand  carriages  conveyed  "  the  army  from  Boulogne 
to  the  Rhine. 

14 


,  * 

JOSEPHINE. 


A  noble  mind  and  gentle  heart  displayed  ; 

"  Undazzled  and  unstained"  by  all  the  pomp, 

And  pride,  and  flattery  of  court  —  forgiving, 

Industrious,  and  peaceable,  and  mild, 

With  heart  to  pity,  and  relieve  the  woes 

Of  all,  "  sweet  voices"*  well  might  speak  her  praise  ; 

For  lavish  of  her  gifts  was  she  to  those 

Who  drank  of  poverty's  most  bitter  cup— 

A  heart  to  lighten  grief  wherever  found, 

A  tear  for  those  who  wept,  and  skill,  and  will, 

The  aching  heart  to  soothe,  had  Josephine  ; 

Yea,  even  the  hunted  stag  read  pity  in 

Her  eye,  and,  hotly  chased,  protection  sought 

Her  carriage  wheels  between  —  nor  sought  in  vain  ; 

A  silvery  band  around  his  neck  was  clasped  ; 

*  During  one  of  their  journeys,  the  Emperor  was  to  pass  to  May- 
ence  on  "  a  new  road  which  he  had  caused  to  be  constructed  on  tho 
banks  of  the  Rhine,"  and  Josephine  was  to  "ascend  the  river  by 
water."  She  was  delayed  by  a  storm,  and  by  sickness  "  four  hours," 
and  arrived  just  at  the  tune  when  Bonaparte  came  from  another  di 
rection.  The  inhabitants  of  the  place  paid  their  honors  to  her,  while 
the  Emperor  entered  the  city  unattended,  at  which  he  was  greatly 
exasperated,  and  accused  Josephine  of  "  a  systematic  design  of  capti 
vating  the  suffrages  of  the  public." 


JOSEPHINE.  315 

1, 

Nor  might  the  huntsman  henceforth  harm  him  while 
The  lovely  Queen  had  power  him  to  protect. 

Napoleon  with  his  army  hastened  on ! 

O'er  many  a  battle-field  where  conquered  hosts 

Lay  groaning,  bleeding,  dying,  they  upraised 

The  triumph  shout  of  "  victory,  victory  I"     • 

But  still  amid  the  circle  once  so  gay, 

The  lonely,  weary  hours  all  slowly  moved — 

/Suspense  made  mirthful  sounds  but  mockery ! 

But  hark  !  the  sound  of  bells !  a  courier  comes  I 

The  gallant  rider  reins  his  noble  steed, 

And  shouts  of  "  Victory !  Austerlitz  I"  pass  on 

"  From  lip  to  lip."     With  overwhelming  joy, 

By  light  of  flambeaux  on  his  message  gleaming, 

The  Empress  reads  that  Bonaparte  is  safe — • 

The  war  is  o'er — she  must  to  Munich  haste, 

To  celebrate  the  nuptials  of  Eugene.* 

The  hero  of  the  battles  is  again 

The  nation's  pride  and  praise,  and  gayety  reigns. 

Proud  of  the  heir  apparent  to  his  throne — 

*  Eugene  was  married  to  Augusta,  Princess  of  Bavaria,  Jan.  1806. 


316  JOSEPHINE. 

His  little  namesake*  fondly  loving  him, 
He  felt  he  still  might  clasp  his  loving  wife 
Unto  a  heart  that  with  all  its  lofty  pride, 
And  great  ambition,  loved  her  dearly  still, 
And  days  of  sweet  content  full  swiftly  passed. 
But  again  along  the  shores  of  the  fair  Ehine,  ' 
Brave  men  assemble  for  the  battle's  strife, 
And  ne'er  perchance  before,  did  Bonaparte 
With  lighter  heart  bid  Josephine  farewell. 

But  ah !  what  means  that  sudden  grief  and  fear 
Around  the  youthful  heir  to  a  proud  throne  ? 
Haste !  haste !  physicians  call !     They  come  to  fiiid 
The  silvery  bowl  is  broken,  and — he  sleeps  I 
Where,  is  his  parents'  pride  ? — an  Empress'  joy  ? 
The  golden  chalice  of  her  hopes  is  crushed — 
She  knows  Napoleon's  will,  and  fears,  yet  hopes 
With  tenderest  love  and  care  she  may  avert 
A  stroke  which  seems  too  terrible  to  bear ; 
For  next  himself,  with  all  his  love  of  fame 
And  glory,  she  is  loved. 

*  The  prince  royal  of  Holland,  and  son  of  Louis  Bonaparte  and 
Hortcnse,  who  died  during  the  war  with  the  Prussians. 


JOSEPHINE.  317 

"  Flushed"  with  success — victorious  every  where, 
He  comes  to  meet  her  with  a  cordial  smile ; 
Her  trusting  heart  sees  not  the  coming  storm, 
Whose  raging  fury  soon  will  sweep  her  joys, 
As  with  a  scorching  simoon-blast  away. 
Napoleon  still  doth  seem  to  love  her  much, 
And  o'er  her  heart  Hope  flutters  smilingly ; 
With  woman's  faithful,  hoping,  trusting  heart, 
'Mid  dangers  at  which  sterner  souls  might  quail, 
She  seeks  to  turn  the  wrathful  surge  aside, 
And  by  her  deep  devotion  conquer  him 
Whose  will  so  oft  was  proved  invincible  ; 
But  with  his  growing  power,  stronger  grew 
His  wish,  his  glory  to  a  rightful  heir, 
A  last,  a  proud  inheritance  to  leave ; 
And  Hope  now  came  to  her  a  trembling  guest, 
For  Eumor  told  a  sad,  un welcome  tale ; 
But  yet  she  seemed  as  gay  as  heretofore, 
And  cloaked  the  deep  despair  she  dared  not  speak ; 
While  of  his  schemes  Napoleon  silent  kept 
When  she  was  near,  although  full  well  she  knew 
A  darker  grief  to  her  might  quickly  come. 

At  length  she  feels  her  trial  hour  has  come, 


318  JOSEPHINE. 

For  he  whose  step  was  firm  in  danger's  hour, 
Although  so  much  of  joy  he  owed  to  her, 
Kesists  her  pleading  look,  and  pleading  words, 
And  sternly  tolls  the  death-knell  of  her  bliss ; 
"With  faltering  step  approaches — takes  her  hand 
And  lays  it  on  his  heart — says :   "  Josephine, 
Good  Josephine,  you  know  how  I  have  loved. 
To  you,  to  you  alone,  I  owe  the  moments  few 
Of  happiness,  which  in  my  life  I've  known ; 
My  destiny  is  stronger  than  my  will, 
And  love  must  yield  to  France'  best  interests." 

"  Oh !  say  no  more,"  the  unhappy  Empress  sobs, 
Yet  pleads :  "  You  surely  will  not  take  my  life." 
Strange  darkness  o'er  her  spirit  threw  its  pall, 
Nor  might  the  watchers  round  her  couch  of  woe, 
Soon  break  the  death-like  spell  thrown  o'er  her  soul ; 
They  almost  feared  she  ne'er  on  earth  would  ope 
Her  eyes  to  life  and  consciousness  again. 

The  Emperor  from  that  scene  of  grief  withdrew, 
His  brow  encircled  with  a  wreath  of  fire ! 
He  loved  the  hour  of  strife  which  led  him  on, 
And  on,  and  on  again  to  victory  ; 


JOSEPHINE.  319 

• 

But  now  a  mightier  struggle  in  his  soul 
Calls  forth  a  tear,  and  shakes  his  firm  resolve. 
His  sky  is  darkened,  but — he  looks  again ! 
Through  riven  clouds  the  sun  looks  down  and  smiles 
Upon  a  baby  monarch  in  his  arms ! 
Enough  !  the  heart  that  loved  him  best  may  break, 
If  through  the  dim  aisles  of  futurity, 
"  The  echoes  of  his  fame"  be  sent  along. 

Three  hours,  and  lo !  the  drooping  eyelids  rise  I 

But  what  a  change !  the  lustre  of  that  eye 

Whose  gentle  light  could  "  calm  his  darkest  moods" 

Is  gone,  and  such  unutterable  grief 

Is  painted  on  that  brow,  her  dearest  friends 

Could  almost  wish  the  trance  had  ne'er  been  broken. 

No  boisterous  pretense  of  loneliness, 
Like  foam  of  ocean's  surging  wave  thrown  up 
With  dash  and  roar  upon  the  sandy  beach, 
Like  bursting  bubbles  soon  to  disappear, 
Or  sound  of  mountain  torrent  foaming  on, 
Soon,  soon  to  be  no  more,  broke  from  her  lips ; 
But  ah  !  the  Searcher  of  all  hearts  beheld 
A  deeper  wave  sweep  o'er,  affection's  pearls : 


.,*. 
320  JOSEPHINE. 


Yet  little  plead  she  more,  for  well  she  knew 
'Twould  be  of  no  avail  with  him  whose  will 
Was  stronger  that  his  conscience  or  his  love. 
Bat  oh  I  could  he  have  known  she  told  him  true, 
When  at  the  evening  hour  she  prophesied 
His  star  would  wane,  when  separate  from  hers — 
Have  seen  his  son  an  uncrowned  exile  die, 
And  on  his  throne  the  offspring  of  his  Queen,* 
Would  he  such  spirit  torture  have  endured, 
And  keen  remorse  which  stung  his  haughty  soul 
In  after-years  ? 

But  ah !  the  billows  beat, 
Wild,  wildly  beat  round  her  unsheltered  head  I 
The  ocean's  stormy  roar — the  tread  of  war, 
Were  music  to  her  ears,  compared  to  this — 
Thus  banished  from  his  heart,  his  hearth,  his  home  I 
Must  earnest  love  like  hers  be  thus  repaid  ? 
And  can  ambition  quell  the  Emperor's  love  ? 
And  can  he  bid  his  lovely  Josephine 
Untwine  the  tendrils  of  her  gentle  heart 
From  round  the  bosom  which  hath  been  its  prop  ? 

*  The  present  Emperor  is  son  of  Louis  Bonaparte  and  Hortenso, 
and  grandson  of  Josephine. 


JOSEPHINE.  321 

Can  he  refuse  support  unto  that  heart, 
So  full  of  love  and  tenderness  for  him  ? 
And  dares  he  sternly  bid  her  stand  alone 
In  life,  while  yet  affection's  object  lives  ? 

Oh !  all  the  world,  with  all  its  smiles,  to  her 

How  blank,  compared  with  his  love-beaming  glance! 

Ah !  cruel,  bitterer  far  than  death  her  grief ! 

For  when  a  loved  one  dies,  in  memory's  urn 

He  sleeps  embalmed,  with  choicest  flowers  of  love — 

His  image  ever  more  within  the  heart ; 

But  oh !  to  be  estranged  from  one  so  loved, 

And  feel  the  portals  of  his  heart  will  close, 

And  coldly  shut  her  out  for  evermore, 

Alas  !  what  grief  of  earth  could  equal  it  I 

But  yet  there  may  be  love  so  deep  and  true, 

The  heart  will  almost  willing  be  to  break, 

If  but  affection's  object  happy  be. 

"  '  Fade,  memories,  fade — fade,  memories,  fade' — be 

still" 

Is  often  whispered  to  the  aching  heart ; 
For  its  gushing  tenderness  must  be  restrained, 
And  ere  they  bloom,  its  cherished  hopes  must  die ; 
14* 


322  JOSEPHINE. 

For  he  who  oft  with  promise  fair  of  love, 
Had  taught  the  tendrils  of  her  heart  to  twine 
Around  his  own,  now  tears  that  heart  away 
With  ruthless  hand,  to  give  another  place. 

'Twere  well  if  she  might  weep  her  life  away ; 
But  no :  a  darker  hour  than  death's  awaits  her. 
In  costume  grand,  Napoleon's  family, 
With  the  imperial  council  silent  sat, 
While  he  who  feared  the  name  "  irresolute," 
Arose,  declared  her  virtue  and  his  love. 
"  In  sweet  but  faltering  tones,"  his  wife  replied, 
And  swore  to  be  Napoleon's  wife  no  more. 

That  day  with  all  its  shades  of  woe  not  yet 
Had  passed.     Again  they  meet  whom  he  appoints : 
Pale,  with  her  trembling  children  at  her  side, 
She  comes  to  seal  the  dread  decree.     She  paused — 
One  wild  convulsive  start,  as  though  new  eyes 
Were  given  to  read  the  darkness  of  her  doom ! 
One  moment  more — she  listened  to  those  words 
Which  did  the  holy  marriage  tie  dissolve. 

With  folded  arms  the  proud  Napoleon  stood ; 
His  "  sweeping  plumes"  hid  not  the  deep  emotion 


JOSEPHINE.  323 

Of  his  stern  heart  in  such  a  trying  hour. 
That  countenance  so  oft  expressionless 
'Mid  scenes  of  peril  and  of  sleepless  care, 
Betrayed  a  mighty  struggle  in  his  soul ; 
But  yet  ambition  urged  him  rashly  on, 
And  bade  him  spurn  from  him  his  lovely  Queen ; 
And  to  his  will  her  faithful  heart  was  bowed, 
Whose  highest  earthly  happiness  was  found 
In  seeking  oft  with  tenderest  care  his  joy. 

"What  boots  it  now  she  wears  an  Empress'  crown, 
While  in  her  gentle  heart  sinks  deep  the  thorn 
Whose  poison  human  skill  may  ne'er  withdraw  ? 

Eisng,  she  spake  the  oath  his  will  demanded, 
Then  sank,  o'ercome  with  weight  of  hopeless  woe, 
While  gushing  tears  were  from  her  eyelids  forced. 
A  pen  within  her  trembling  hand  was  placed, 
With  which  to  write  the  word  which  sealed  her 

doom: 

No  longer  need  she  stay — no  "glance  of  love" 
From  him  who  motionless  before  her  stood, 
Might  for  her  wondrous  sacrifice  repay. 
Upon  her  loving  children  now  she  leans, 
And  mutely  passes  from  the  gazing  throng. 


324  JOSEPHINE. 

Alone,  what  throngs  of  memories  stir  her  heart, 
And  shake  her  wear y,  worn,  and  quivering  frame ; 
And  tears — idle  yet  bitter  tears  will  flow  ! 
No  husband's  lips  may  kiss  those  drops  away, 
Nor  to  her  anguished  spirit  whisper,  "  Peace ;" 
Yet  can  she — must  she  leave  the  halls  by  love 
And  joy  made  dear,  nor  whisper  an  adieu, 
To  him  who  shared  her  joy,  and  caused  her  grief? 

Thick  darkness  spread  o'er  earth,  and  o'er  her  soul — 
With  noiseless  tread  she  passed  through  the  lone 

halls, 
And  in  his  doorway  stood. 

She  silent  paused — 

No  more  his  wife,  ah !  might  she  enter  there  ? 
Napoleon  rose,  and  clasped  her  to  his  heart, 
And  he  so  proud  and  stern,  to  tears  was  moved, 
While  sobbing,  folded  in  his  arms  she  stood, 
With  kee»est  anguish  overcome. 

One  hour, 

And  desolate  and  sad  she  passed  away, 
That  threshold  never  more  to  overstep. 

Now  Morning  from  his  wings  the  frost-gems  shakes, 
And  o'er  her  floor  a  gleam  of  light  is  cast, 


JOSEPHINE.  325 

Yet  o'er  her  soul  a  cloud  is  hovering, 
Which  thicker,  darker  grows  while  she  prepares 
To  leave  the  halls  of  splendor  she  has  graced. 
The  carriage  waits,  yet  pauses  she,  while  tears 
Come  thick  and  fast ;  but  yet  not  long  she  stays ; 
Her  kind  attendants  round  her  weeping  stand, 
She  dares  not  pause  to  say  to  them  farewell  I 
Alas !  her  heart  was  quite  too  full  for  words  I 
So  silently  she  to  the  carriage  passed, 
But  ere  upon  its  step  her  foot  was  placed, 
She  paused  as  mourners  at  a  funeral  pause, 
Of  objects  dear  a  last  fond  look  to  take. 
Oh !  what  a  throng  of  buried  hopes  she  left, 
That  palace  home  her  heart's  lone  sepulcher ! 

Farewell !  farewell,  ye  love-enchanted  halls  I 

Ah !  never  more  the  closing  palace-gates 

Will  open  spring  the  Empress  to  receive ; 

No  more  the  welcoming  voice,  with  gladsome  shout, 

The  music  of  the  heart  from  her  sweet  lips, 

Shall  ring  upon  the  toil-worn  warrior's  ear — 

No  more  the  beaming  eye,  and  loved  caress, 

May  speak  her  spirit's  joy  at  his  return. 

But  can  the  pride  of  place,  or  love  of  fame, 


326  JOSEPHINE. 

E'er  purchase  joys  one  half  so  bright  as  those 
Which  from  affection's  garnered  hopes  may  spring  ? 
Ah  !  restless  roams  his  heart  in  halls  of  pride : 
No  jewel  in  his  crown  was  e'er  so  bright, 
As  was  the  priceless  love  of  Josephine. 

They  bore  her  to  the  consecrated  place 
Which  oft  from  care  a  sweet  retreat  had  been; 
But  oh !  how  changed !  for  now  Malmaison's  walls 
No  more  with  Bonaparte's  glad  shout  resound. 
A  sacred  spot  was  the  room  he  called  his  own, 
Whose  floor  no  feet  save  hers  might  ever  tread. 
His  pen,  and  a  historic  volume  with 
Its  folded  leaves,  to  tell  where  last  he  read — 
The  map  o'er  which  his  restless  eye  oft  glanced, 
While  meditated  he  some  conquest  new — 
The  bed  on  which  in  camp  he  slept — his  arms, 
The  garments  which  he  wore,  there  laid  aside, 
Eemained  unchanged,  remembrancers  of  him 
Whose  memory  to  her  was  ever  dear : 
And  like  the  graves  of  dear  departed  ones, 
The  place  was  consecrate  to  secret  grief: 
Yet  other  rooms  there  were  where  oft  assembled 
Choice  friends  who  loved  her  for  herself  alone, 


JOSEPHINE.  327 

With  those  who  knew  their  presence  there,  pleased 

well 

The  haughty  Bonaparte,  still  proud  of  her. 
\ 

At  length  Navarre,  a  "  kingly  palace"  once, 

"  With  winding  crystal    streams,"  and    beauteous 

"  lawns," 

Affords  the  lonely  mourning  one  a  home. 
The  busy  peasant  cheerful  labored  there, 
Until  the  ancient  beauty  of  the  park 
And  palace  was  restored,  and  flowers  bloomed 
Where  late  "  neglect"  on  all  the  scene  was  writ, 
Until  the  Empress  could  herself  declare, 
That  save  Napoleon  there  was  naught  to  wish. 


The  council  o'er,  his  messengers  were  sent 
Maria's  hand  to  claim.* 

The  Austrian 

WTiose  haughty  bearing  awed  Napoleon  when 
He  first  his  vows  confessed,  accepted  then 

*  "  The  Emperor  held  councils  at  Paris  to  determine  tho  most  ad 
vantageous  matrimonial  alliance  for  his  realm." 


328  JOSEPHINE. 

A  hand  and  throne  she  scorned  to  take  until 
Her  family  was  safe,  and  peace  restored.  * 


The  sweet  vales  bursting  into  life,  spake  of 
Approaching  summer,  when  the  cannon's  roar 
Proclaimed  a  prince  was  born. 

The  absent  ones 

Returning,  with  the  joyful  news  upon 
Their  lips,f  beheld  the  beaming  countenance 
Of  her  who,  quite  forgetful  of  herself, 
Spoke  thus  of  Napoleon's  joy,  and  that  of  France, 
Rejoicing  that  "  the  painful  sacrifice" 
She  made  might  bring  much  bliss  to  other  hearts : 
"  My  jewels  which  so  long  have  useless  lain, 
I  now  will  wear — let  members  of  my  court 

*  Napoleon  first  met  Maria  Louisa  at  Schonbrunn,  a  chateau  near 
Vienna,  while  engaged  in  the  war  of  1809  with  Austria.  She  was 
the  only  one  of  the  imperial  family  then  at  the  capital ;  the  other 
members  having  fled  for  safety.  Bonaparte  expressed  his  admiration 
for  her  soon  after  their  first  meeting,  but  she  refused  to  hearken  to 
him  at  that  time. 

f  All  save  one  of  the  members  of  Josephine's  household  were  at 
an  entertainment  given  by  the  prefect,  but  as  his  services  were  de 
manded  at  Paris,  they  returned  home. 


JOSEPHINE.  329 

Their  costumes  grand  prepare — to  celebrate 
The  prince's  birth,  let  all  the  city  come 
Unto  the  fete  which  I  rejoice  to  give." 

Ah !  love  which,  none  but  a  noble  soul  may  know, 
That  while  the  heart  lies  bleeding  in  the  dust, 
Can  celebrate  with  festive  scenes  the  joy 
Of  him  who  laid  it  there,  and  smile  'mid  grief 
So  deep,  yet  still  and  calm,  that  all  around 
May  think  the  heart  is  light,  and  full  of  joy  ; 
But  at  the  midnight  hour,  when  every  sound 
Is  hushed,  oh  !  how  the  surging  waves  of  grief, 
As  with  a  whirlwind,  shake  the  mourner's  soul ; 
And  yet  nerved  up  to  an  endurance  strange, 
She  walks  along  with  seeming  joyousness, 
And  none  but  (rod's  omniscient  eye  may  view 
The  life-blood  ebbing  slowly  from  the  heart, 
"Which  ne'er  more  pulsates  with  a  griefless  joy ; 
And  yet  exalted  joy  with  grief  commingles, 
For  she  suffers  for  the  sake  of  him  she  loves  I 

Though  like  a  bruised  reed  she  stands  alone, 
Affection's  rich  ripe  fruits  she  bringeth  oft 
To  lay  upon  a  now-neglected  shrine, 
For  naught  can  force  the  love  from  out  her  heart. 


330  JOSEPHINE. 

» 

Ah !  noble,  gentle,  lovely  Josephine, 

"What  gilded  crown  from  kingly  hands  could  add 

New  beauty  to  thy  brow  of  gentleness, 

Or  make  us  love  thee  more  ? 

The  heart  that  thus 
Can  sacrifice  its  dearest  joys  and  self, 
Full  well  doth  understand  Affection's  power ; 
The  love  that  thus  could  smile  o'er  broken  hopes, 
In  others'  hopes  to  joy,  forgetting  self, 
Was  surely  love  indeed. 

"Affection's  dove," 

Driven  from  its  little  paradise,  sought  not 
Again  on  earth  a  long  abiding  place, 
But  flitted  on,  a  pensive  harbinger 
Of  good  to  all  around,  oft  plucking  thorns 
From  out  the  heart,  and  placing  Hope's  sweet  leaves, 
Those  dew-fraught  leaves  of  healing,  in  their  place ; 
And  thus  from  Sorrow's  deep  but  fertile  soil, 
Sprang  up  the  seeds  of  joy  for  other  hearts  ; 
"  The  blessing  of  the  poor"  was  on  her  head, 
And  with  Love's  flowers  they  grateful  wreathed  her 
tomb. 


JOSEPHINE.  331 

Josephine  desired  to  cultivate  an  acquaintance  with  Maria  Louisa, 
but  as  Maria  was  unwilling  to  meet  her,  Napoleon  frequently  per 
mitted  her  to  see  his  son,  without  the  knowledge  of  his  wife ;  but  at 
length  fearing  that  such  interviews  might  be  made  known  to  Maria, 
and  be  a  source  of  domestic  troubles,  Josephine  relinquished  the  plea 
sure  of  seeing  the  "  King  of  Rome." 

In  a  letter  to  Napoleon  she  says :  "  The  moment  I  saw  you  enter, 
leading  the  young  Napoleon  in  your  hand,  was  unquestionably  one  of 
the  happiest  of  my  life.  It  effaced  for  a  tune  the  recollection  of  all 
that  had  preceded ;  for  never  have  I  received  from  you  a  more  touch 
ing  mark  of  affection.  It  is  more ;  it  is  one  of  esteem — of  sincere  at 
tachment.  Still,  I  am  perfectly  sensible,  sire,  that  those  meetings 
which  afford  me  so  much  pleasure,  can  not  be  frequently  renewed ; 
and  I  must  not  so  far  intrude  on  your  compliance,  as  to  put  it  often 
under  contribution.  Let  this  sacrifice  to  your  domestic  tranquillity 
be  one  proof  more  of  my  desire  to  see  you  happy." 

Bonaparte  visited  Josephine  in  1812,  before  he  set  out  for  Russia, 
and  she  at  that  time  attempted  to  dissuade  him  from  so  hazardous  an 
undertaking ;  but  urged  on  by  his  love  of  glory,  he  was  dauntless 
when  the  spirits  of  all  save  himself  quailed.  During  his  absence, 
and  soon  after  the  burning  of  Moscow,  it  was  reported  that  he  was 
dead,  and  conspiracy  was  attempted  by  Mallet,  which  proved  unsuc 
cessful.  Bonaparte  left  his  army  to  the  command  of  his  generals, 
and  hastened  to  Paris.  Josephine  who  ever  listened  with  deep  in 
terest  to  all  tidings  concerning  the  Emperor's  fate,  felt  assured  that  a 
stronger  feeling  of  opposition  to  him  was  felt  than  manifested,  and 
foresaw  more  clearly  than  he  did,  .his  approaching  downfall,  at  which 
she  was  deeply  grieved. 


332  JOSEPHINE. 

He  at  length  saw  his  danger,  and  before  leaving  Paris  made  his 
last  sad  visit  to  her  abode.  For  some  time  after  his  departure  a  cor 
respondence  was  kept  up  between  them. 

On  hearing  that  the  royal  family  were  flying  for  safety,  Josephine 
returned  to  Navarre. 

Bonaparte  abdicated  his  throne  April  llth,  1814.  On  the  16th 
he  wrote  to  Josephine :  "  My  head  and  spirit  are  free  from  an  enor 
mous  weight.  Be  resigned  as  I  am,  and  ever  remember  him  who 
never  forgot,  and  never  will  forget  you." 

The  star  so  long  ascendant,  wanes  at  length, 
And  murky  clouds  its  dazzling  light  obscure  ; 
For  he  who  gave  the  restless  sea  its  bounds, 
Thus  far,  no  farther  shalt  thou  go,  decreed. 
What  though  in  glory  for  a  while  it  shone ; 
When  lurid  flames  from  Moscow's  palaces 
Arose,  and  Nature  smiled  upon  the  scene  I 
Conspiracy  at  home — defeat  abroad, 
Had  damped  his  courage,  and  his  spirit's  fire. 
When  trials  thickly  came,  where  might  he  flee  ? 
Ah !  whither  go  for  love  and  sympathy  ? 

It  was  a  glorious  day  in  sweet  spring-time, 
And  twilight  o'er  the  lovely  hills  and  plains 
Of  France,  a  soft  yet  radiant  light  had  thrown, 
And  o'er  the  sweet  retreat  of  Josephine, 


JOSEPHINE.  333 

When  with  a  mournful  air  Napoleon  sought 
One  who  so  oft  the  shadow  from  his  soul 
Had  raised,  in  days  of  high  prosperity. 
The  proud  man  wept  with  one  who  loved  him  still — 
With  one  whose  love  he  had  most  fully  proved, 
And  whom  adversity  made  doubly  dear  ; 
Viewing  his  future  in  a  darkening  cloud, 
While  o'er  his  fate  she  sadly  wept,  he  spake  : 
"  Ah !  ne'er  was  man  more  fortunate  than  I, 
But  now  a  storm  is  gathering  o'er  my  head, 
And  I  have  not,  save  thee,  O  Josephine ! 
One  trusty  friend  on  whom  I  may  repose." 

Thick  and  yet  thicker  clouds  are  round  him  wrapped. 

No  courtly  train  of  warriors  waiteth  now, 

Eager  and  swift  to  do  his  bidding  proud, 

But,  as  a  giant  foe,  enchained  with  chains 

Such  as  himself  oft  forged  for  weaker  hands, 

They  bore  him  to  a  distant,  lonely  isle, 

Against  whose  rock-bound  coast  wild  billows  rolled, 

And  mocked  the  madness  of  his  haughty  soul. 

Where  now  was  she  who  ne'er  the  exiled  one 
Forgot  ?  Ah !  sadly  musing  on  his  fate, 


334  JOSEPHINE. 

To  distant  Elba's  lonely,  sea-girt  isle, 
She  fain  would  fly  with  kindest  sympathy, 
When  sterner  hearts  the  warrior-king  forsook, 
To  pluck  the  thorn  from  out  his  bleeding  heart, 
And  with  that  eye  which  in  his  darkest  mood 
Could  quell  his  ire,  to  kindly  gaze  in  his, 
Till  he  might  for  a  while  forget  the  clouds 
Which  o'er  his  present  and  his  future  hung ; 
And  with  that  voice  by  sorrow  sweeter  made, 
Pour  o'er  his  saddened  spirit  Love's  sweet  balm,* 
As  did  she  in  his  days  of  proudest  state, 
When  legions  of  brave  men  his  word  obeyed  ; 
But  grief  on  grief  her  strength  had  sorely  tried, 
And  ere  the  wished-for  summons  came  from  him, 
Unto  a  higher  Presence  was  she  called. 
Increasing  pain  she  could  not  longer  hide, 
Yet  cheerful  from  her  welcome  guests  withdrew, 

*  The  "allied  sovereigns  assured  Josephine  of  their  friendship  arid 
protection,"  and  suffered  her  to  retain  her  home  at  Malmaison.  She 
would  gladly  have  gone  to  Elba,  to  cheer  the  exiled  monarch,  and 
in  a  letter  to  him  deplored  her  fate  in  being  to  him  only  afrimd, 
when  he  was  hi  need  of  more  than  mere  friends,  but  knowing  that 
Maria  Louisa's  claims  were  superior  to  her  own,  she  waited  Bona 
parte's  consent  to  visit  him,  should  not  Maria  choose  to  do  so. 


JOSEPHINE.  835 

Assuring  them  that  soon  relief  would  come.* 

Ten  days,    and  round    her    mourning    ones  were 

gathered, 

Who  knew  full  well  that  soon  she  must  depart  I 
She  might  not  longer  check  Napoleon's  grief, 
Nor  might  he  weep  beside  her  dying  couch : 
That  he  might  seem  into  her  fading  eye 
To  gaze,  while  on  his  face  she  looked  once  more, 
She  beckoned  for  his  portrait  to  be  brought, 
And  sweetly  smiling  on  the  weeping  group 
Which  round  her  stood,  she  spake  her  parting  words, 
Then  slept  a  long  unbroken  sleep,  from  which 
Her  spirit  woke  beyond  the  griefe  of  time. 

While  sovereigns  and  her  children  round  her  wept, 

Her  sweetest  eulogy  was  written  with  tears 

From  eyes  of  those  her  kindness  oft  had  cheered — • 

Of  those  who,  though  unhonored  by  a  court, 

Eemembered  how,  as  Mercy's  messenger, 

With  joy  such  as  the  heavenly  angels  feel, 

She  oft  unto  their  wants  administered. 

*  A  few  days  before  Josephine's  death,  she  gave  a  dinner-party,  on 
which  occasion  she  became  so  ill  as  to  be  under  the  necessity  of  re 
tiring  from  her  guests. 


• 

336  JOSEPHINE. 

The  fairest  flower  that  decks  her  wreath  of  fame- 
Brighter  than  jewels  of  her  queenly  crown, 
Is  Pity's  offering  to  the  sad — so  oft 
A  pure  elixir  to  the  sorrowing  soul. 

A  simple  monument  of  marble  white, 
On  which  in  royal  robes  a  statue  kneels, 
As  though  for  France  the  lovely  Empress  prayed, 
Marks  now  the  place  where  sleeps  sweet  Josephine. 
A  brief  inscription*  tells  her  children's  love  ; 
No  other  words  need  on  her  tomb  be  graven, 
For  Memory  and  History  proclaim 
The  noble  virtues  of  her  lofty  soul. 

Ah !  what  a  changeful  life,  thou  Empress  fair, 
Was  thine — how  very  full  of  sorrowing  care ; 
Yet  Hope,  like  some  fair  bird  of  plumage  bright, 
Amid  thy  woes  oft  o'er  thee  waved  her  wing, 
And  while  thy  heart  with  wildest  grief  was  stirred, 
O'er  woe- worn  souls  thy  smile  of  kindness  poured 
The  balm  of  unobtrusive  charity. 

*  EUGENE  AND  HORTENSE  TO  JOSEPHIKB. 


*    JJ 


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